


We Still Need to Live

by Icouldrun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6549082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icouldrun/pseuds/Icouldrun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amidala was gone and the longer she was with him the more she feared she was losing Padmé. Or, Padmé finds herself actually feeling something for Lord Vader. AU V/P</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Background: AU. The Empire is new to the galaxy and Padmé is given a mission by the Rebellion following the end of her reign. She and Vader have never met and Vader is a few years older than her.

 

 

 

The young woman slipped into the throne room, escorted by the shadows of the queen's most trusted handmaiden and the captain of her guard. Breaking away from her traditional white silk dresses, the young woman wore a coarse black cloak that helped her blend into the palace shadows. Still, her shiny red hair was a bit of a giveaway when she finally lowered her hood.

The doors closed, and soon it was only the young queen and the young woman who once proudly held the title senator. Perhaps she still held her title, but to the queen and a select few she meant Alliance, rebel, and hope.

"Amidala," the woman greeted, taking the delicate hands of the monarch in her own.

"Mon," she greeted with equal affection.

The lights were off in the throne room, and all recording devices were experiencing a one-hour technical glitch. The two women took their seats.

"I hear the election results are in. Who will take over for you?"

"Princess Jamillia won by a landslide I'm told. The people are nervous to lose any more of their power; they wanted a monarch who would not be corrupted."

Mothma nodded but pushed a little further. "I heard they wanted you to stay and continue your reign. They even wanted to amend the constitution to keep you."

"My reign is almost over, and I intend to step down and pass the throne on."

The young rebel heard the slightest bit of relief in her young recruits voice. "Amidala, allow me to be frank. What do you intend to do when you are no longer sitting in power?"

"I've spoken with my advisors, and they think I should become Senator of Naboo to further look out for the people's best interest-"

"But that's not what you want, is it, Dear?"

Amidala stood and walked to the windows overlooking her kingdom. She was still in her full costume, and the lights of the city cast an eerie glow over her painted face.

"I am a servant to the people of Naboo and will do what I can to protect their rights."

Mothma joined her. "You will waste your talents in a system that is indifferent to their rights. You will work until there is nothing left of you only to discover yourself an enemy of the Empire and a failure to your people."

There was a wince under those heavy robes she wore. Mothma was sure of it.

Quiet, so very quiet, were the words that were pure treason as they slipped from Amidala's white and red lips. "What would you have me do?"

The redhead smiled and took the young girl's hands. "Many of our top intelligence agents have all brought back one common piece of information. The construction of a battle station whose magnitude of power they've all emphasized to be vast. They say it's well on its way to completion and that when it becomes operational the Emperor will have the power to surpass the Rebellion."

To her credit, Amidala showed little outward reaction to the news. Years of being queen had given her a perfect political mask that, even without her makeup, left her almost inhuman in her control.

Mon Mothma continued, "We've learned little of this station but that its primary construction is by slave labor and that there have been several uprisings. We've heard that many times Darth Vader has had to surpass their resistance." She finished on a whisper.

Vader, the unknown terror who had been unleashed into the galaxy. Amidala knew little of him except that he was to be feared and that he killed indiscriminately. The Emperor's pet and heir.

"What will you do with this information?" she finally asked, and Mothma knew the girl was ready to help the Alliance.

"The Emperor wants his project completed as quickly as possible. He recognizes that Vader's force may not be enough. He's opened a job position to oversee the critical stages of this battle station's most primary weaponry in hopes of its most efficient completion. We have a man in the Agency responsible for filling this position, and we want you to take the job, Amidala."

It was unnerving to most how calm the young queen could be. So still and cold as she contemplated her options inhumanly fast. Amidala was barely in her twenties after giving up most of her teen years to server her planet, and now Mothma found herself asking the child to also sacrifice her twenties, if not her life. It was not something the woman did lightly, but she knew this was perhaps the only competent ally she had up for the task.

Young, unmarried and unattached. A family who loved her but who had supported such a long and demanding career from the sidelines would surely understand the importance of the burden the Rebellion was asking from their daughter and sister.

"It's risky. I understand if you need time to think it-"

"No. No, I understand, and I accept."

Mon Mothma felt a slight weight lift off of her own shoulders. "We already have a man in field on a lower position. Your job will be to slip him classified information, anything useful. He'll get it to us."

"I understand," her unwavering, robotic voice replied.

The two women continued to stare over the twinkling lights of Naboo, and Mon Mothma wondered only briefly what she doomed their young queen to.

* * *

In a sense, Padmé was reborn and Amidala laid to rest when she finally washed away her mask. They applauded at Jamillia's coronation, but afterwards many would come to her and ask what she would do now. Her advisors had told them that she was thinking of running for senator, and they would happily contribute to her campaign if that's what she needed.

In her final elaborate gown as a former queen, she had told them in her deep voice that she had accepted another job whose classifications forbid talk. Some walked away disappointed. Others seemed to instantly resent her. Classified meant Imperial, and if they lost her to the Empire then they were more exposed to the Emperor.

But then there were a select few who knew exactly what she meant when she said classified. They smiled politely and discreetly wished her luck.

The coronation and the party afterwards lasted hours, but Amidala was no longer the center of things. Jamillia accepted the oaths of her subjects as they one by one approached her, and for the first time in years Padmé was free to mingle.

Afterwards, she went to her home. No longer living in the palace, she went to her real home where boxes of her things had been sent.

Ruwee, Jobal, and Sola Naberrie welcomed her home with open arms, and it was Sola who took her into the bathroom and wiped her face clean. She stared at her face for several minutes as she took in the changes she hadn't noticed before. The loss of baby fat, the sharper glint to her eyes and the fuller lips. Her eyebrows were more defined than she remembered.

"You're beautiful, Padmé," Jobal sighed from the door.

Sola put her hand on her sister's shoulder, her engagement ring feeling foreign to the younger girl. "Dad will have to fight the boys away."

But Padmé could only stare at the reflection she struggled to recognize as her own.

Jobal swatted her oldest with the back of her hand. "Your father doesn't fight. He simply sits down with them and has a frank conversation about what he expects."

"That's not what Darred said. He was so afraid that-"

Tearing her eyes away from the mirror, the former queen spoke in her own voice, "Actually, I've already accepted a job."

* * *

She left home two weeks later after many tears and promising to return for Sola's wedding. Ruwee was the only one who knew. Although he was a low ranking member of the Alliance, it was seen as fitting to tell him, and it was with pride and fear that he told her goodbye that morning.

Stepping into her craft with its small Imperial crew, she relaxed in her chambers. Somehow, she knew it would be the last time she'd be able to relax in the coming weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background: AU. The Empire is new to the galaxy and Padmé is given a mission by the Rebellion following the end of her reign. She and Vader have never met and Vader is a few years older than her.

"And when is your projected completion date?" Padmé asked. Her voice was softer than it had been as queen but managed to keep its authoritative undertones.

"Three weeks," the young man standing in front of her answered, diagrams of section FW-1 through 4 standing behind him. They were small pieces of the big picture, but she memorized as much information as she could while taking her work notes.

"Thank you for the presentation." She stood and shook hands with all the Imperials before they left her office. She resisted the strong urge to wipe her hands clean on her work gown.

The diagrams stood in front of her, the sections that when put together would become the great battle station they wanted. She studied it intently as she had done many times these past months on Despayre.

The blueprints and notes from the engineers all pointed out the great power the station would have upon its completion, but a few emphasized the importance of keeping it hidden during what they considered its critical stage.

Padmé stared long and hard before sighing and cleaning up the holos of information around her. She had already given her Alliance contact the basic information on the DS-1 Orbital Battle Station, which he confirmed he had taken back to Command. But looking at her calendar, the dates and plans she had, the former queen felt a dissatisfying sickness rise up.

In the course of her time in her new office, she had brought construction closer to the emperor's desired timeline. She was helping make progress on what was sure to be the cruelest terror unleashed into the galaxy.

Falling into her comfortable seat, she dropped her head into her hands and forced herself to remember the good she was ultimately doing. Glancing at her holocom, she briefly thought of calling someone. Some of her handmaidens remained with the new queen, but several had gone into other branches of work, and she was curious how they were doing.

Never mind her own loneliness. She'd gone from constantly being followed, to guards and attendants just outside of her door when she slept, to complete independence with little transition time. Her first week in Despayre she'd struggled with the basics of doing her own hair, and cooking had been a whole adventure best forgotten.

Recognizing her former dependence on such domestic abilities, the Empire had offered to send her assistance, and she'd almost accepted before remembering what Mothma had told her. This was a planet of slaves and prisoners. It wouldn't be her trained and trusted handmaidens but someone with no choice but to do as she said.

She would be kind to them, she reasoned. But they could learn what she was really doing if she was too kind. She kept her true purpose a secret and would never leave rebel information lying around, but she needed to keep people at arm's length. A slave or prisoner had something to gain should they rat her out. Her handmaidens were her friends who had proven time and painful time again that they would die for her.

Instead she had a droid. Lifeless and inhuman, it helped her with the basics, but it could never make up for her loneliness. Uncharacteristically, she slumped in her seat, something she would have never dared to do in her throne.

Grabbing the closest holo, she examined it and noted that it was what she had sent to the Alliance. A piece of the DS-1 that would make up its biggest weaponry system. The hope was that it had the power to destroy entire planets.

It had to be stopped.

* * *

"Continue the interrogation."

Darth Vader exited the prisoner's cell and headed back to his chambers, ignoring those who avoided him and those who tried to grab his attention. His arm was acting up again, the metal digging into his skin and bone.

Entering his quarters, he removed his mask, the unventilated air sending him into a coughing fit. He quickly tempered it down and called one of his medical droids over. As always, the sound of his own voice startled him for a moment.

Removing his glove and rolling up his sleeve, he let the droid examine his arm, absently flipping through some of the latest reports. His lungs were getting better he realized with some satisfaction. Before he would have collapsed if he removed his helmet, and although he still might should his suit be compromised on land, at least on the ship it was only coughing.

"The mechanics have been compromised. Currently no treatment available," the droid diagnosed.

Annoyed, Vader crushed the machine. There was treatment, just none the emperor would permit him to have. Same with his lungs he was sure. Keeping him just weak enough to remain under control for the time being.

His anger spiked, and for a moment, he could feel bottomless power rise up within him. More power than anyone could hope to hold in their lifetimes. It was intoxicating, and he dropped the holo as he fell back in his seat. Closing his eyes, he concentrated the sudden swirl of dark energy and carefully directed it to this arm. The coolness was instantly soothing, and he let himself succumb further into the Dark Side, feeling its cool embrace.

He was no longer aboard the Executor but in the Valley of the Dark Lords. The tall monuments of the fallen kings stood above him, blocking the one sun. His boots were frozen to the ground, but he knew below them was the endless sand. He'd spent some time here when he first left the two suns, but he'd disliked the sand. He remembered wondering if the entire galaxy would be so lifeless, but by the time he saw other worlds his curiosity for exploration had been tampered by the desire for power. The wind blew, and he felt it through the thickness of his armor, and it was only when he realized he wasn't wearing his helmet that his lungs ached and he felt himself collapsing-

The pain was gone when he finally snapped back to consciousness aboard the Executor.

Rolling his sleeve down and putting his glove back on, he took a few shallow breaths and had to wipe the sweat away from his brow. He kicked the fallen droid at his feet away before bringing the fallen holo back to him.

He tried to read the reports in front of him but quickly became bored. His brief visions of the Valley stayed with him, almost calling. He didn't belong in the cabin of a ship, he belonged behind the controls. He was half tempted to take a quick trip out into space but knew there was no time. Soon, he would arrive at the latest rebel base and be that much closer to crushing them.

It was a relief when his com sounded and he had an excuse to put away the holo. Retrieving his helmet, he secured it back on and took a moment to adjust to the red tint and weight. Turning to the com, he activated it.

"Yes?"

"The prisoner is speaking, Sir."

"I'll be down in a moment."

The halls were much more empty than they had been earlier, and Vader briefly wondered how long he had been gone. The images of the Valley continued to filter through his mind as though the Force was trying to tell him something. More than likely, but he couldn't imagine what.

He made his way down the familiar halls to the detention center where Ozzel stood at attention outside the door. He seemed rather pleased with himself today, but beneath it was the usual anxiety most of his officers held.

The door was opened as soon as Vader stepped forward, behind it a beaten man sat in the middle of the room. His bruises hadn't quite formed yet, but the damage had been done. No doubt he was bleeding internally by now.

"Now, what do you know?" Vader asked.

A mop of dark hair covered the man's eyes, but the Sith Lord was certain he saw tears. Pathetic.

"No-Not much. I'm a low rankin' member."

The Rebel was weak and as good as dead. Just as he did back in his room, Vader gathered the dark side around him and used it to look into the broken man's mind. He was aware of a pained gasp as the mind began to rip apart from intrusion. But he kept tearing, pushing away what was obviously the rebel's family and homeworld. He pushed past trivial things, a lover's smile and dreams of glory. Finally, he found what he wanted.

Just as the man had said, he was a lower ranked member. Didn't mean he was completely useless.

He saw memories of standing guard outside a classified meeting. Only once, covering for a comrade who'd fallen ill. Standing outside the room, it was hard to hear much, but the rebel got the gist of what they were talking about.

Darth Vader pulled away from the crumbling psyche with a second burst of anger in one day. He killed the rebel and stormed out of the room, startling Ozzel and the Stormtroopers outside.

"Lord Vader?" Ozzel's calls fell on deaf ears. As he stormed down the halls, the older man struggled to keep up, but thankfully remained quiet while he tried to think.

The Rebels knew about the Death Star. They knew. Terrorists, probably already making their bombs and thinking of ways to destroy the battle station.

"Admiral." Vader stopped walking, and Ozzel stood before him, ready to hear his instructions.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Send a squadron to the Rebel base and change our course to Despayre."

"But Sir, we have it on good authority that there is a base this time and-"

Ozzel stopped when he felt an invisible grasp around his neck, slowly choking. He knew the stories and immediately shrank back with wounded pride.

"Right away, Sir."

"Go," Vader snapped.

The Admiral knew when to get out while he could, and soon the Executor was on her way to one of the most classified Imperial operations.

* * *

Taking her seat in the conference room, Padmé did her best to mingle casually with others assigned to the completion of what they now called the Death Star. Many were seasoned officers who proudly served their Empire, and to associate with them was oddly reminiscent of her times spent in Naboo court. They were faithful to their ideologies, and they had hope in their leaders. It was terribly misplaced, but she found herself understanding them better than she had from her throne when the Empire had first been created.

The general stood at the front of the room at exactly the time the meeting was meant to start. He commanded attention in a way Padmé found herself respecting before she could remind herself that these people were not her friends. Still, it was easy to focus her attention to the front of the room where several screens dropped, highlighting various pieces of the Death Star.

She took notes, and she answered questions when they were directed to her. In all, she was efficient at her job, and her colleagues knew that. The meeting wrapped up, and Padmé returned to her office with a young lieutenant named Jareth.

He was the son of some Moff and would likely rise through the ranks quickly. A small piece of her that just knew politics so well told her to be kind to him. Another part of her, the rebel that was always fighting, wanted to push him away.

She remained polite when she welcomed him into her office. "Please, take a seat." She motioned to the empty chair opposite of her desk.

"So, rumor has it you come from the emperor's homeworld."

Padmé paused, her mind having to switch gears from what she thought they would be talking about to more personal conversation.

"Yes, we're both from Naboo," she answered evenly, always disgusted that the emperor came from her beautiful planet. She had known him, and he had personally congratulated her upon her election. The day she heard him declare himself the Supreme Ruler she'd cried in the privacy of her bedroom. Afterwards, there was speculation on whether or not she knew beforehand and just how much she would support him. To not do so was death.

"I hear it's beautiful. I've always wanted to go. Coruscant is nice in its own way, but Naboo just sounds great."

A wave of homesickness hit her, but she did what she could to push it away. "It is. I have FW-2 plans here if-"

"Oh, Miss Naberrie, we have plenty of time to talk work. I just want to get to know you right now."

She paused, trying to figure out what he wanted from her. She now occupied a minor position in a large project with many others working to its completion. He had nothing to gain by inquiring about her life.

"You ever been to Coruscant?"

"Yes," she answered, "once a few years ago."

"Oh? You have to tell me how you liked it."

For a moment, her stomach twisted up like it might have back in that summer she spent with Palo. All nervous and girlish with excitement. Pushing it away, she tried to focus on the business that was important.

Her fingers traced the holo on her desk. "It was lovely from what I remember. Here is where the general worries we'll have the most trouble meeting deadlines." She activated the holo, but Jareth was only watching her.

He smiled, but her lips remained straight and her face a perfect mask even without her makeup.

"Lieutenant, this is important, and both of our full attention is necessary to overcome current hurdles," she attempted to command without actually having much authority over him.

But his smile remained. "Of course, Miss Naberrie."


	3. Chapter 3

Vader would arrive soon, so Padmé gathered everything she'd been collecting the past week and sent out a discreet signal to her Alliance contact to come collect. She'd put everything together as neatly as possible when she went back to her home for lunch, slipping the holo disks in the pocket of her dress as she left.

When she entered the largest building on the planet (aside from construction hangers), she went to her floor. Beneath one of her kitchen counters, she had a scanner, which she used to make sure the room was clear of any intrusion since she'd left that morning, but aside from the cameras outside she appeared to be alone.

While she waited, she flipped through her messages, all of which concluded Vader was indeed on his way and would arrive soon and that it was important to be prepared for anything upon his arrival. Jareth had also messaged her, asking how she was doing and if she wanted to have lunch sometime. She chose to read the message as a friendly invite, the alternative not an option with her true affiliations.

There was a light knock on her door, which she quickly answered, smiling when she saw her Alliance contact outside. Vistin was the only name he went by. He was young, but his hair was already going grey, his otherwise smooth face growing wrinkled and tired. Still, he smiled when she let him in.

"I don't have much time left on my lunch break," Padmé told him, pulling the copied holodisks from her pocket and passing them to him.

"This one is some of the latest blueprints," she shuffled them, "and this one is my correspondence with others on timelines and current progress."

"Thank you, your majesty."

Such a familiar title, she accepted it without thought before remembering. "Just Padmé, please."

Vistin smiled and quickly pocketed the holos. "I'll be sure to deliver them."

He headed to the door before stopping and turning, "Is it true Vader is coming?"

"It's what I heard," she affirmed, knowing he'd be here soon, likely hours.

"Do you think the guy eats regular food?"

"Sorry?" she asked, then remembered where Vistin worked.

He wore the cafeteria uniform, though he was one of the few free beings in the kitchen, working as overseer to the slaves and droids that did most of the work. Though she did hear that the kitchen crew was one of the better jobs to have if you had to be a slave, Vistin had earned a reputation as a kind man during his time over the ovens, much to the displeasure of crueler slave masters who ruled by force.

"Well, if he does that's only more information to give to the boss." He winked and left.

* * *

When Vader's ship entered the Despayre system, the planet immediately became petrified. Padmé watched high-ranking officers call for their uniforms to be pressed with an odd sense of fascination. Cleaning droids began to scrub every inch of the base. Even the slaves began to walk with more purpose as the dreaded Sith Lord drew closer.

While she knew she should feel some fear, Padmé felt oddly calm. Tired but unafraid of an approaching enemy. Surely, she had the most to hide of all the men around her-for the Alliance did not disclose any other rebels here. She slipped into her office quietly.

Slipping behind her desk, her first instinct was to call council and devise a battle strategy. Luckily, she could work just as effectively on her own, but as her eyes roamed over the Naboo decorations she brought with her she drew a blank. Her best shot of success was if Vader simply overlooked her. So long as his visit did not involve her…

She stared at the three-eyed statue across the room, giving a brief prayer for wisdom as the shadows leaked in.

Shadows, perhaps not quite. But the planet felt more ominous when Vader landed.

* * *

There was a hush that descended the room, only interrupted by the filtered breathing when Vader approached.

He moved surprisingly graceful despite the armor that was no doubt heavy. He moved through the halls and rooms full of all sorts of ranks, ignoring greetings. Too uninterested in formalities, too tired for anything but the robotics of work, he pushed forward to the crown jewel of the planet as it was now.

Leaving the main base, he stepped onto a transporter and instructed the terrified youth operating it to take him to the main construction site of the Star Destroyer's most important weapon. It was only when they were moving that Vader fully recognized the weak presences behind him and spotted the aging engineers. They said nothing, and he welcomed the moment of silence until they reached the station.

"Bring me to the main construction center," he demanded.

"Yes, my lord," the older of the two men said quickly but strong enough.

When he finally got to see the ultimate weapon created by the Empire, he felt very little. The mechanic in him wanted to tear it apart and see all the pieces going into it to create such a weapon. The part of him that was still Skywalker felt disgust. And the Sith Lord… felt nothing. Not able to muster any emotion, he began to walk along the walkway to further examine the larger pieces. "Where are we on schedule?" he called out behind him, sensing still the weak flickers of life trailing after him.

"Above. We're doing quite well, my lord."

"I will be the judge of that," he snapped. In truth, he had little idea of what the schedule was and was surprised to hear that they were actually ahead of it. As he recalled several months past, the emperor had been… unhappy with the progress being made on his station.

"Oh, yes, Lord Vader." A young man stepped forward, ambitious and clearly trying to gain favor. "We owe it to one new manager. She's quite excellent, and if you'd like to meet her I can arrange for-"

"Enough," Vader breathed out.

The station was otherwise doing fine, but it had to be a disguise to the deceit that had to be taking place behind the scenes. This was all being overseen by a rebel despite the efficiency of the job and progress being made.

He looked around, hoping there would be even the slightest hint of what he needed to be searching for hidden on the complex mechanics surrounding him. Treachery was often in the open if you looked hard enough, but everything appeared as it should on the floor.

"Gather the top engineers," Vader commanded. "I want to know exactly where we're at."

Officers scrambled, but the ambitious man remained. Foolish but truly looking to get ahead, no doubt with a strong family name if you looked close enough.

"Oh, good. You'll get to meet her, the woman I was telling you about. She's the reason-"

Vader stared at the man before him a moment longer before turning abruptly and leaving the hangar alone. On the trip back to the main base, he ignored his surroundings, including the tired slaves forced to build the machine that would eventually be tested on them. He felt a stranger flicker from another life before the Dark Side smothered it, and he was free from the past.

Back inside the base, it was deathly silent. He made his way to the larger conference room, where he was sure the others would find him in time to present their progress and hopefully let slip the intruder.

He rounded a corner and only by the will of the Force was able to stop before he knocked down the slight figure going the way he'd just come from.

* * *

Padmé had promised herself she would remain calm and poised, that without her painted mask she would be able to remain unseen with her own face. And she would have if she were only able to go to the bathroom and wash her face before the meeting she'd received several messages to attend. Instead of being able to calm herself down and center herself, she ran into the man she'd most hoped to avoid during the duration of his visit.

Before her stood the hulking figure of Darth Vader.

He was taller than she imagined, to the point where she had to look up at him, and she felt much smaller than before.

Her reflection stared back at her through the black lens of his helmet, and she was able to see her expression, which gave away only the barest hints of terror. But this was her worst fear short of the emperor himself rounding the corner and saying nothing after nearly colliding with her. She would not shrink away nor would she leave an impression that he would remember later with much significance. She would be small, a blip on his radar that betrayed nothing of who she truly was.

"Hello, Lord Vader, do you need help finding the meeting room?"

His loud breathing was all that echoed in the halls, and she wondered (only for a second) if it made it harder to fight if the enemy could constantly hear you. From what she'd heard, this didn't seem to be a problem.

"That is unnecessary."

She gave a polite nod and was about to make her escape when another figure rounded the corner.

Jareth spotted Vader first-that much was obvious-but then his eyes settled on Padmé, and a smile broke. "Oh, so you two have met then?"

Vader stopped and turned around, and the former queen did her best to remain relaxed and poised. So close to escaping if only for a quick breather, but her encounter with the Sith Lord was being dragged out even more painfully.

"Briefly. If you'll excuse me," she attempted.

"I was telling Lord Vader all about what you've done here, Miss Naberrie, and how much we've gotten done since your arrival," Jareth blabbered, ignoring her effort to leave.

If Vader had been impressed by Jareth's boosting of Padmé, he showed no signs of it, and she was fairly certain that whatever face was beneath that mask was equally indifferent.

"Thank you for your kind words, Lieutenant, but as I've said I really must excuse myself for a few minutes." She nodded to both men, barely able to tolerate standing in the halls a moment longer before finally getting away.

She pushed into the refresher, but it wasn't until the door closed that felt she could breathe again. Her fear of Vader had been justified (not that there had been an alternative), and it was only after she pushed her hair back that she felt how clammy her forehead was. Taking a few calming breaths, she went to the sink and washed her hands and began to readjust her frazzled appearance.

She still felt sick when she made her way to the meeting room but managed to push it all away and slip inside with the growing crowd. From the brief she'd received earlier, she figured they would have a repeat of their previous gatherings, exactly like the one from that very morning, all to satisfy Vader on their progress.

When this was all over, when she was dead or the Empire was finally gone and the Republic restored, she swore she would retire from civil service and pursue something else. She'd often fantasized about this when she'd sat on her throne, a different job free of worlds resting on her shoulders. Perhaps she'd try her hand at the arts, dabble in writing or give painting a shot. Or maybe she would meet somebody and start a family of her own; that might be nice. Her heart gave an odd leap at the prospective, and she imagined what it would be like to spend Life Day with not only her parents and sister's family but with someone of her own.

It was something she'd never thought of in the past, but the prospect lingered longer than it should have, especially in present company. Straightening up, she examined those around her and noted that the majority were doing well in appearing professional while only a few showed obvious trepidation.

Vader stood at the head of the room, supposedly examining some of the latest reports and finalized in-depth blueprints of even the smallest components, but there was something about the tilt of his helmet that told Padmé there was something else. It was as if he was eavesdropping on a conversation on the other side of the room.

His presence was frightening, but if what they said was true, that he had more powers than Jedi mind tricks, she felt the clamminess returning, the sickening feeling returning to her stomach. There was a moment of doubt. For a brief second, she wished to return to the past and tell Mon Mothma she wasn't interested and that no matter how much she detested the Empire she needed a break.

Jareth caught her eye, and he waved to her from his place across the room. She'd known him only a short time, but already he was getting on her nerves. It wasn't his fault, but her one goal today had been to avoid Vader's attention, and he'd only made it worse. She smiled at him, but despite how warm she tried to make it she knew her lips were tight and her nose scrunched just the slightest bit.

General Dune stood and called order to the room, which easily fell into attention, anxious to get it over and done with as quickly as possible but also curious with what Vader would say or do during the meeting. Many, including Padmé, had never seen him in person and were morbidly curious about his reputation.

That reputation was thankfully absent from the briefing. Others gave their input efficiently, all to the silent Sith Lord save for his respirator. Her name was called, and with as much composure as she could gather, she stood and gave a near identical report to the one she'd given only the day before.

"We're well on schedule, General. Right now our biggest concern is labor." Padmé felt sick saying this again. The chains, the multiple, hopeless creatures enslaved upon Despayre. The Empire had set the planet back centuries after the Republic had worked so hard to make all citizens equal under the law. And now here she was, helping head a planet wide slave trade build a galactic terror.

She tried to remember she was here for the greater good.

"There have been uprisings in the Northeast section AE-201, which have left us with a production slowdown. We were ahead of schedule in this area, but by the end of the week we will fall behind if production is not doubled for twelve and a half hours."

Sitting back down, the others nodded, and in the interest of finishing as quickly as possible no questions were asked, unlike the last time.

The general turned to the man beside Padmé. "Mr. Gibbs, are there any changes in compartment designs? Production begins next month, and Conrad wants everything finali-"

"Are there any solutions to this uprising?" Vader interrupted, ignoring the new topic. A hush fell over the room that none choose to fill right away.

It was the general who stepped forward, his usually large presence missing, "I've sent through a request for more Stormtroopers, Lord Vader, and the issue should be resolved by the end of the week."

"Is that all you have done?" the masked man (but was he human?) asked.

The room seemed to grow smaller, crushing Padmé, who suddenly felt a swirl of fear and regret. She always knew there was the risk of dying, but here and now she knew she wasn't ready to, especially when she'd never really gotten to live.

"I, well, I'm afraid I don't understand, my-"

Padmé knew the general was on the wrong side, that he served the Empire and was doing so much to hurt so many, but to see him gag and grasp at his throat left her shaken. His face grew flushed and slowly turned an awful shade of blue before he was finally released. He hunched over, and for several seconds took long and very audible breaths in an otherwise silent room, save for his assailants own loud breathing.

"See to it, General, that you don't send Stormtroopers into a bloodbath with people who have nothing to lose. Isolate this area and starve them out."

"Yes, my lord," he wheezed, his face losing its flushed complexion and returning to normal.

Too the relief of all, Vader left the room, but the pretense of new information continued without him.

* * *

She was still shaken when she returned to her office. So much so that for the first half hour she could only stare at the pile of holos littering her usually organized space. There was a part of her that knew this was what she signed up for and that she needed to stay on. Another wondered what sort of life existed outside of Empires and Republics.

After managing to get to work, no more than twenty minutes could have passed when the door opened without even a knock. She didn't know what she expected. except that The hulking figure of Darth Vader standing in her doorway immediately made her long for Naboo more than ever. Twice she had been confronted by the emperor's second upon his arrival on the planet, twice in a day when she'd hoped to avoid him at all costs. She could free the planet Naboo from the Trade Federation with the help of the Jedi (who'd just been declared enemies of the State at the time), but this went beyond her duties.

When she finally got control over her panicked senses, she stood quickly, hoping that being eye level would help her feel less vulnerable. Only when she stood did she remember there last contact and how he stood a good head taller than her. Regardless, even in the tallest high heels she knew she would never not feel intimidated by the man before her.

"Lord Vader! Can I help you?" she asked, proud that her voice wavered only slightly .

He was quiet for a moment, and she liked to believe he was admiring her collection of Naboo art, but she knew he probably didn't even notice the original painting at the entrance of the office. Instead, she got the unfortunate impression that he was studying her much too closely. She absentmindedly gripped the edge of her desk, but when it began to dig painfully into her palm she released it and felt all the more exposed, just standing there and waiting for him to say something. Her heart beat painfully in her chest, and she wondered if he could hear it? Could he sense her fear, her panic? She'd known only a few Jedi before the purges, but she knew that they had the power to sense such things. Surely the same could be done by the Sith?

"I have been told several times you are the reason for such efficiency, Miss Naberrie."

She wasn't sure how to respond at first but knew she had to quickly. "I've done my best to get production done as quickly and as soundly as possible," she affirmed.

"And would you deign to tell me why you've chosen to come here?"

She froze and once more felt the clamminess returning until she felt nauseous and ready to collapse. She choose the simplest answer. "It was a great opportunity and the pay was worth the move."

He stepped further into her office but still focused on her and not the collection of art. "What did you do before this?"

She remained behind her desk as he drew closer, watching him and trying to relax her tensed muscles. "I was queen of Naboo."

She had a feeling he already knew. He was trying to trap her she was sure. Or maybe it was her nerves getting the best of her. It was hard to say, but the more she heard that terrible breathing the more certain she became that he knew.

"When will you have the Death Star completed and operational?" he asked, suddenly changing tactics.

"My contract has me here until the outer shell and main structure components are completed. Operations will take at least a year to complete as well as practical facilities. I believe I can have my part done three years ahead of the original schedule," she answered with confidence, talk of work actually calming her the slightest bit.

Because if she really wanted to do this job right, if she really wanted to see the Death Star completed, she knew she could get it done in that amount of time.

"Let it be so then." He turned and left.

The sudden quietness of the room left an odd ringing in her ears when the door shut. She crumpled back into her seat. Her fingers grabbed her com on their own accord and hovered over the first digits to numbers she'd memorized. But who could she call?

Mon Mothma, tell her it was over and she needed to leave. Her parents, simply because she wanted them both so badly in that moment. Maybe even Sola for a good pep talk and reassurance. Because she was certain that Vader at least suspected what she really was and that the day she completed her job to his satisfaction she would be killed.

* * *

Vader returned to his ship at the end of a long but rather productive day. He'd seen the progress of the Death Star and knew it was progressing far better than expected. He instilled fear into all those who might otherwise be idle and were no doubt working double time during his stay. Most importantly though, he'd found the leak and rebel.

The former queen of the emperor's home world was a petite woman who was far more competent than many men in the Imperial court back in Coruscant. He was almost impressed that the Rebels had been clever enough to get her into the creation of the Death Star and doubt feed them information about it, but now he would use that against them.

Taking off his mask back in his quarters upon the Executor, he let himself adjust to the air before slipping into meditation. She was right about being able to get her end of the project sped up by three years. He'd confirmed as much when looking over the progress before and after her arrival, and the numbers had been astonishing.

It was infuriating that there had been so much idleness before her arrival and that the simplest problems went through weeks of bureaucracy to solve. No doubt a former monarch was more willing to take the responsibility and possible consequences if they offered immediate solutions to be implemented the day of a stonewall. More of it was needed, and for that reason alone he made the call to leave her alive and to continue doing what she did best.

But she needed to be isolated, cut off from her rebel contacts and kept working just as well as she did now. His mind raced with all the ways he could use her mind and just what he would do when her part was complete. She would need to die, but there was something troubling him from her past that made her future harder to decide.

Naboo.

Pulling up all the records the Empire had on her, he confirmed that Padmé Naberrie was also Queen Amidala, the popular monarch who'd held a planet together her first year in office. A long suspected Alliance supporter and possible Jedi sympathizer was noted in some of the more classified files written by high ranking officers who'd had interests in or around Naboo they'd tried to secure at the start of the Empire. That had been a turbulent time though, and many authority figures had been accused of various crimes as grabs for power and massive coups had raged at the end of the Clone Wars.

He continued to search her records, some of which were highly classified and very telling of a young leader, but before he could get far in figuring out who she was and what she got out of this arrangement (he truly hoped it wasn't misguided faith in a dead Republic, but every file the Empire had on her told him it was) there was an error message on the final files that existed on her.

He tried to override them and get past the encryption; he even entered his own credentials into the information center to get to her final files, but the same error message appeared. An odd and very foreign feeling of dread settled over Vader when he studied the red error message. He was half convinced that it must be a computer error, but a part of him had already known when he'd heard Naboo.

The emperor had some sort of interest in the girl.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padmé wanting to leave politics based on Natalie Portman saying that she only stayed because the new Queen requested she take office, otherwise Padmé would have retired.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Padmé finally had the courage to call home later that evening. She couldn't bear to see her parent's faces after such a tough day, so instead she punched in the code for Sola's apartment.

It didn't take long for her elder sister to answer. Her face immediately lit up. Behind her were boxes as she had slowly moved out of her apartment now that she was done with school and about to move in with Dared.

"Hey, Miss Hotshot, how's it going with your big fancy job?"

"Oh, same old, same old." Padmé played it cool, just as she had for years. Only this time, she wasn't sure she wanted to. Surely, she could open up to Sola, tell her the truth that she was indeed in danger?

But her sister was smiling, and she saw that wedding ring glimmer when Sola pushed her hair out of her face. It was then that Padmé knew she couldn't say anything that might not only upset her but also potentially put her at risk should too much slip. "I just really miss you," she said instead, as it was true enough.

Sola's features softened, and a soft smile graced her lips in a way that was reminiscent of their grandmother. "I miss you so much, Padmé. I wish you never took that job. I just really want you here with me, helping me plan this wedding, which is turning into a nightmare by the way. My seating arrangement is butchered, and the flowers are turning into a mess."

Padmé figured that these things were overdramatized for her own benefit, but she appreciated it.

Even as queen, her family had been just down the road, could be brought in under a minute when she needed them. It was lonely to be galaxies away.

To talk about Padmé's own job would be highly illegal. Instead they talked about everything Sola. Her high paying job as an Environmental Engineer so soon out of school. Dared's success with his writing. Wedding plans, at least a half an hour on the big day.

Padmé bit her lip, knowing she couldn't hide on the holo all day. It was nice to talk about something besides a battle station, though. A friendly reminder that there was life outside of Despayre.

After hanging up, she felt much better and could even pretend she didn't remember what had upset her to begin with-until she saw all the messages from officers all around Despayre asking if there were any updates on Vader's departure date. She wanted to echo these sentiments but instead shut down her computer and went to the kitchen, ready to forget about work at least until her stomach was full.

Of course, being a child queen had prepared her for many challenges of life, be it war or the lives of millions affected by her choices, but it had left her in the deep end when it came to cooking. Her cabinets were bare of any warm meal ingredients. She ate what amounted to a snack for dinner (buttered bread and pudding for dessert), but she wouldn't complain about her unsatisfied appetite, her loneliness (no handmaidens on classified military bases as it were) or the danger that was Darth Vader. Leaning against the counters of her kitchen, alone and still longing for another laugh with Sola, she couldn't help but agree with her sister. She wished she weren't here.

* * *

In the week that Vader had been on Despayre, Padmé had sent no new information to the Alliance nor did they attempt to contact her. Like many others, she simply kept her head down and tried to get as much done as possible.

The planet was relatively small, its once rich jungle slowly dying by the pollution to make the Death Star. The view was depressing with the greenery beginning to copper red.

The weight that had lifted after her talk with Sola made its return. Tenfold when she passed a group of slaves being steered into the jungle for another day of involuntary work. She reminded herself of the Alliance's goals and their eventual triumph, even if it happened long after she was dead-that was what was important to the galaxy. That little glimmer of hope that there was still a fight to be had was more powerful than any Death Star.

And she needed that hope, especially when she got inside and could see plain as day the fear on everybody's faces.

She carried on as normally as she could, but the air was thick with tension, voices were lower, and even Jareth did not greet her with a smile but a worried wave. The memo came in just before noon. General Dune was calling another meeting. There were security issues that concerned the Empire apparently.

She read the words twice before deleting her memo. It became obvious then that the Sith Lord knew about the information leak, and he would narrow it down to her soon.

An odd numbness settled over her like the prey who knew they'd been caught and wondered what the point of fighting was. Perhaps even feeling the tentative touch of hysteria. Again, she looked at her comlink and wondered if she should call her parents. It could be her last, she reasoned, and she really did miss them.

She did little work that morning unlike the other officers she walked by who seemed on the verge of meltdowns while they tried to prepare for the afternoon. It wasn't until she was in her familiar seat in the large meeting room that her nerves caught up. She'd never given up in a fight before, but somehow this was different, revolting and terrifying, and she wanted to fight it head on as equally as she wanted to flee.

She heard Vader's mechanical breathing before he entered the room, tall and clad in black, probably the last thing many had seen before he'd cut them down.

"Lord Vader, we are ready to listen to your concerns regarding possible security breaches, if you're ready?" the general asked.

Vader looked at him for only a moment before his hand was up. The general gasped and clawed at his throat, but this time there was no relief. Padmé watched what was potentially her future turn blue before he collapsed. Nobody moved to help their superior, nor did anyone stand up to Vader.

Two Stormtroopers collected the body and took it out of the room before Vader rounded and looked at everybody else. "Any possible Rebel sympathizers should be reported to me directly."

He left just as suddenly as he'd arrived, his mechanical breathing echoing down the halls before disappearing.

* * *

 

Padmé did not generally pace. It was not appropriate when maintaining a regal appearance, but alone in her apartment, she walked back and forth over the floors, certain that if anybody inhabited the rooms below they were upset.

The view out the windows was nothing spectacular, nothing like Naboo, but she finally stopped her hurried pace to look outside and try to calm down. In the distance, she could see the smoke that came from the production facilities, darker than usual, and no doubt the slaves were working more than they had in the previous months.

She could only look a moment longer, certain that the slaves and prisoners were suffering more now than they ever had since being brought to Despayre.

It became obvious with the death of the general that Vader was only getting started. She'd been so certain that she would die earlier in the afternoon, but for whatever reason he'd left her alone.

She doubted the general had any Alliance ties, but by killing him, Vader now had every officer truly under his thumb.

Padmé went to her bedroom and closed the doors. She did a quick scan of her room to be sure it hadn't been bugged, and when she was relatively sure she was in the clear, she retrieved her secret comlink, encrypted and (hopefully) untraceable.

She went to the only saved number and dialed, uncertain where Mon could be or what time it was there. The image blinked to life, and the two women made eye contact for the first time in months.

"Padmé? Is something the matter?" She frowned slightly, creasing her eyebrows, but staying relaxed in her seat. Mothma was made of steel and seemed prepared for anything Padmé might throw at her.

Padmé had never known Mothma very well. After the formation of the Empire, the former Senator had 'retired' and gone on to start her family as far as the public knew. In actuality, she had helped organize all the dissenters of the emperor and gone on to make the Alliance a well-organized military with branches in every area of the Empire, from Padmé and the Battle Station to people in the Galactic Postal Service. Mothma and a few others like Bail Organa and Admiral Ackbar were the head of the entire operation; without them Padmé wasn't certain the Rebellion would hold up from the enormous pressure the emperor was suddenly focusing on them. At least not adequately enough to hold even the slightest threat.

Gathering her thoughts, she tried her best to reassure Mothma with a small smile. "Darth Vader is here. He has been for about a week." If Mothma hadn't known, she showed no surprise. "Today he killed General Dune and has put pressure on others to report any Alliance supporters. I think it would be wise to get out the agents I've reported to, and from now on, I will give you the information directly."

"Is this necessary?" Mothma asked.

"I believe so. I'm not sure how long Vader will be here, but the less Alliance members there are the safer we will be." She left it out that if any of them were compromised it would lead to her. No matter how faithful somebody might be, torture would no doubt break even the strongest of men.

Mothma leaned back and appeared to be thinking it over.

"There's a handful of people there. It's a secured base with a low turnover rate. Pulling them out will raise suspicions. I'll talk to my people, but when they're gone it will raise flags. Have you been seen with any of them in public?"

She thought of her few meetings with Vistin. No doubt they'd recorded him entering her apartment, but it had been few times and far enough back that she doubted they'd kept the recordings since nothing significant had happened.

Certainly, someone was monitoring the ranks of officers and officials like Padme, but she considered it more likely that security was focused on keeping the slaves in line as long as there were no hints of spies.

And since the Alliance had yet to give away any knowledge that they knew about the Death Star, she hoped the Empire still believed they were in the dark on the subject.

"It should be fine," she finally declared.

She knew it was best if she were alone on the planet, but she'd miss Vistin and even the other rebels she'd never met. She would be truly alone now, and although she was the only rebel in such a high position, it had still been nice to know there were others like her on the planet.

But this was for their safety, and if it meant her loneliness she could live with it.

Mothma sat up, her posture becoming serious as she looked at Padmé pointedly. "Did you want to leave?"

Yes. She really and truly wanted to leave this horrible planet and never look back. She wanted to help Sola plan her wedding, and she wanted to give up politics altogether. "No. Progress is speeding up here, and I'm sure soon they'll begin making their superweapon information more available as they move into critical stages of building."

"Excellent. As I said, I'll speak to the others. Anything else?"

"No."

"Very well then. May the Force be with you."

The transmission cut, and once again she was alone.

* * *

She was almost done with the piles of work mounting up on her desk. After Dune's death, all of his responsibilities had been left up in the air as nobody had been brought in or promoted, leaving Padmé and other high ranking officials to carry the slack in addition to their usual loads.

The door slid open just as she was wrapping up and preparing for lunch.

Vader stood there unmoving, that awful breathing the only sign he was alive.

Seeing him standing there (again) didn't seem possible, as though someone had gotten a costume and was pulling a prank. The idea ran through her head before she pushed it away and forced herself to stand and at least appear professional despite her familiar terror.

"Lord Vader, two visits in one week? Surely I answered all of your questions last time?"

He stepped into her office and closed the door, leaving them alone. Last time she'd been able to see the hallway, but now being trapped in her small office with him felt so much more like an interrogation. Her palms grew sweaty, and as tempting as it was to wipe them on her dress, she held off.

Instead she did her best to smile, to relax her brow and appear as though this were any other meeting with a superior.

He glanced around her office this time, she was sure of it. The way his helmet tilted just slightly before the lens of his helmet focused on her. A beat of silence passed before he finally spoke with no preamble.

"With the general gone, I'm leaving it up to you to head the department."

She wished she'd remained seated.

Darth Vader was promoting her? The surprise lasted only a minute before she tried to think of what he was really up to. This was a game, and there was his next play.

"I'm not military," she countered. Naboo did not have a formal military. Had it had one she would have been the commander-and-chief; regardless she was unfamiliar with the traditions and disciplines the military encased.

"That is of no concern. Regardless, I'm not asking."

* * *

The Death Star was entering a critical stage in its construction. What would later be housing compartments, ship bays, the cafeterias were all going to be relatively easy in making the moon-sized station. But the reactors, the superweapon, the things that would make the Death Star more than the average battle station were still fragile pieces. The shell was nearly done and these pieces would be added soon before the rest of the star was built around it.

She stood on the catwalks with mostly engineers and foreman. Few officers came to the construction bay unless necessary. Like Padmé her fellow managers and military men knew little of the technical mechanics within the Death Star. But here she stood with people who did know all about the technicalities Darth Vader included. She looked down below at the large structure that would soon hold the most dangerous weapon ever created for mass destruction.

The engineers beside her all held holos of the blueprints and explained the main components. The former queen had stayed up several extra hours the past weeks learning as much as she could about mechanics and the process of creating such a powerful machine. She still didn't understand completely, but listening to those around her, she took internal notes and did her best to keep up.

It had only been a week since Vader had promoted her, but she already felt like she'd fallen beneath the pressure. He exuded such an oppressive energy; she was certain any long periods of time around him would crush even the brightest spirits. But she prided herself on being proficient in her duties, and when she had met him that morning to be his glorified (under surveillance) secretary, she did so ready to go above and beyond in getting this battle station going if only it meant having it destroyed sooner.

When those working up close on the details of getting things functioning were done, they asked if there were any questions. There was nothing she could possibly think of asking, but it didn't matter, as Vader's deep robotic voice boomed instead. "Are there currently any designs to protect the reactors?"

"Besides the base shell and infrastructure surrounding it. We'd be working with a limited space, my lord."

"Let me see the plans."

The technicians quickly handed over their plans, which Vader pocketed before taking one last look down the vast shaft that would soon house the powerful machinery.

"Miss Naberrie," he said, startling Padmé from her own observations.

She nodded to the others before reluctantly following the taller figure. "You want me to ride back with you?" she asked, slightly panicked but upon consideration not entirely surprised.

"Did you plan on staying here for the rest of the day?"

She considered a lie that she wanted to see more but feared he too would linger. Better to get the ride back over and done with. She followed him silently. To stay calm, she thought of everything she'd just heard and thought of potential problems that could arise and ways to strategies solutions.

They left the construction hanger and got on Vader's transportation to leave the deep jungle where the secret warehouse was best camouflaged. When the doors closed, she found herself once again alone with the Sith Lord, who stood both insignificant and overwhelming at the controls of the lambda shuttle while she pretended to read her holo from one of the nearby seats. She wore her usual mask of indifference, and her voice had taken on its former robotic monotone when she didn't attempt to control it.

She doubted Vader was the type to make small talk-she cared little for it herself-so she tried to enjoy the relative silence on their short trek back to the main compound. In an odd and disturbing twist, she found that the sound of his breathing grew into background noise over time, and when she didn't think about it she could no longer hear it.

The shuttle landed without trouble, but then the doors opened; it wasn't at the administration building where Padmé's office was. It was at another series of buildings she'd never been to before.

"What is this?" she asked, setting down her holos and eyeing Vader skeptically.

"Stay close," was all he replied, his long black cape already yards ahead of her.

Cautiously, she obeyed and followed him to the main entrance of one of the smaller buildings, wondering just where they were heading. Before they entered, though, she saw that one of the other structures was a dorm. More than likely this was where Stormtroopers were housed.

Inside was a dull design of grey and concrete with several troopers standing guard, very few of whom had to adjust when she and Vader entered. It seemed they differed from many other soldiers in that they were always at attention and on task, something she had to respect even if she disliked their cause.

Nobody stood in their way or asked for identification as they got onto the elevator, which Vader sent to the lower levels.

It occurred to her, however briefly, that the trick to beating some Imperial security would be as simple as a very good replica of Vader's suit. She banished this thought for another time and focused on her surroundings, noting everything they walked past with great attention. The number of guards per door seemed especially telling, where one door might have perhaps one man and another at least three.

It was when two Stormtroopers stood inside the elevator, a pair on every floor just outside of the lifts doors, that Padmé knew they were going someplace classified, someplace she hadn't been privy to before.

Four Stormtroopers with hands on their weapons was tough enough security even for the strongest Alliance team. With the Sith Lord beside her, she was left feeling absolutely powerless.

She tampered down her excitement that she may learn something important enough to help the Alliance and tried to give none of her thoughts away to Vader as they left the lift and headed into the long hallways, which he was able to navigate easily. She reasoned he came here often.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked, no longer able to contain her curiosity as they passed by unmarked doors and other halls that led down long pathways to unimaginable horrors.

She couldn't believe this much space went to storage use; no, this was sinister.

The was no answer but his continued fast pace forced her to a slow jog.

Down and down several halls until there weren't even guards stationed. The complexity of their path left her certain that if these were jails any escapee would be nothing more than a lab rat in a maze. Even though she'd tried to keep track of their path, she wasn't sure she could return without guidance. Sharp lefts and then rights, straight paths past many other halls, another left.

Despite being in relatively good shape, the fast walk and perhaps the nerves got to her, and her sides began to ache. "Are we almost there?" she asked quietly, becoming frightened of where 'there' was and if this long walk was all to intimidate her.

His presence was enough physiological warfare; anything more was just toppings.

"Almost," he finally answered, much to her relief and growing anxiousness.

They rounded down one final hall before he suddenly stopped in front of a door. She'd been so preoccupied watching the long material of his cape float up that she nearly crashed into him. Perhaps one day she would slam into him, and he'd kill her then.

"We're here," he announced, keying in a code for a large secured door.

It slid open a moment later, and he disappeared inside. She took one calming breath of the sterile, filtered air before stepping inside. Vistin was strapped to a table, and beneath the blood, he still wore his cafeteria uniform.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This was never meant to be published so late but I'm gonna get rolling on the next chapter. So sorry you guys!
> 
> Also HUGE thanks to slumberdollx, otherwise this would have taken me even longer to get out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to slumberdollx as usual for all the help.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

She'd hoped to prevent this exact sort of thing when she asked Mon Mothma to pull out all agents from the planet. For whatever reason, Vistin had stayed and now she knew the chances of saving him were unlikely.

Impossible, actually. A dribble of blood slipped down his parched lips and made its run down his face after obvious torture.

"What is this?" She finally asked. Her voice had dropped and not since she'd taken her paint off did she sound so much like the Queen of Naboo, detached and robotic she studied every injury on a perfectly nice guy. Truly, she tried to be calculated about it. Tried to note with absolute detachment the needle marks along his arms.

"He's in connection with the Rebel Alliance." Was all Vader bothered to say. Without thinking, Padmé responded despite the turmoil of emotions running through her.

"Oh?"

"He's to be executed soon but before that I thought I would ask if you'd ever met before?"

From everything she knew about Vader she'd never heard of him pushing somebody like this, dancing along the edges but never jumping. She thought of those brief meetings with Vistin and the cameras likely stationed all throughout her apartment building.

But there was nothing she could do for the poor man on the table now. As much as it hurt, as much as she loathed herself in that moment, she looked straight into the black lenses that Vader saw through and let nothing about her face give away the truth, no nervous twitch or obvious tell. She'd practiced that much the first weeks in the palace of Naboo.

"I'm afraid we've never met before."

She waited for the alarms, or to be put in her own identical torture room, but only Vader's mechanical breathing and Vistin's labored filled the room.

"Very well."

Deep down she knew it couldn't be that easy. For now, she ignored that obvious truth.

He left the room, the door open for her to follow (something she would need to do in order to escape the maze they were in). She wouldn't look back at the dead man breathing but she did let her eyes remain on him for only a moment, trying to convey her sadness and regret that this miserable place was where it would all end for him.

Vistin gave a small smile, clearly wincing from the tremendous pain he was in.

She couldn't linger for too long. She'd given her answer and she needed to stick with it. At the back of her throat she felt a sob rising and prayed there would be no more questions. Anything else and she would begin to cry without restraint.

She stumbled into the hallway, once again trying to keep up and suppress the turbulent of emotions she felt, she began to feel a foreign anger welling up inside of her, that suddenly she knew what it meant to "see red."

Although she managed to keep her mind blank for the most part, there was one emotion that continuously rose inside of her no matter how hard she tried to push it back.

She would avenge another life lost to the Empire.

* * *

When Padmé was seven or eight, the Naberrie family took their annual summer vacation.

It was hard to remember the exact circumstances for her parents and sister's departure, but Padmé had an afternoon alone with only a droid to look after her. Naboo was a safe planet (it usually ranked in the top 10 lists of "Best Places to Raise a Family") and Padme was trustworthy even as a child and so it didn't take much to convince her parents she would be okay if they and Sola left her alone for a few hours.

That afternoon Padmé did something she'd normally never do-switch off the droid who could no doubt contact her parents if there was any trouble. Certainly, neither they nor the droid would approve of what she did next.

She put on her favorite swimsuit and jumped into the crystal waters her planet was famous for and swam against the soft waves. She let her toes dig into the sands and took deep breaths before doing the same with her fingers.

There were stories her grandmother had told of great Gungan monsters who lived beneath the waters and came up only to take naughty children. Of course, Padmé had never believed this, did not believe anyone would intentionally harm her.

She knew the waters could take her if the current was strong enough. Knew she could only hold her breath for so long before she filled with water. It was why she watched the sun and knew just when to get out, how long it would take to dry off, so that nobody knew she'd broken the rules. Still, moving in the water alone was very thrilling. To break the rules, to not be preparing her summers work for her Apprentice Legislators application next year was exactly what she needed, just one afternoon for herself.

Eventually, she lie on the beach and let the sun warm her chilled skin and wondered if life would always be so pleasant alone.

* * *

In her compartment, she did not cry but moved on autopilot. She took a long shower and repeated over and over that her life was meaningless in the long history of the galaxy. Even though the water was hot her skin still felt chilled. Vistin was dead, and Padmé was left well and truly alone on the planet.

She scrubbed her skin until it became raw and remembered the lessons from her childhood. In politics, you must be selfless. The moment you begin to put yourself first is the beginning of a journey towards corruption. But was is so selfish to want to live? Was it not the basic human need for self-preservation to put oneself before others?

Even with the rise of the Empire, even when Mothma had asked Padmé to take this job, she'd never asked herself this, never asked herself what was in Padmé's best interest. She was tired, very, very tired. She wasn't born to be a queen, nor a manager of a massive weapon, yet here she was. She wasn't sure what she was born to be, if there was such a thing as fate, but after seeing Vistin strapped to that table, after seeing Vader in person, Padmé had an overwhelming feeling that she would never know what her destiny could really be.

* * *

Padmé was drooling on her desk; she knew this but chose not to think of it. Instead, she let her heavy eyes rest. Maybe the sun was setting or maybe it was rising, which accounted for the oddly beautiful purple glow in her office, a rarity on this planet. She chose not to think of what time it was or what still needed to be done for the week but allowed herself just a few more minutes of a satisfying nap, though she was certain she would regret it later when her body was sore and she couldn't quite fall asleep in her comfortable bed. There were loose threads on the ends of her sleeves, and for a moment she thought of calling one of her handmaidens to mend it before it spiraled. Deep down she knew she'd have to do it herself or get a droid programed for seamstress work but it was nice to pretend her faithful bodyguards were just a call away.

There was a hum in the building as the air-conditioning kicked in against the humid planet. She was falling back into a nice state of unconsciousness where her desk was marble and outside her window was Naboo when somewhere a door slid open, and the worst possible noise startled her into an immediate state of action. Her muscles were tensed, and her first reaction was to go for her blaster in her armrest.

Then she remembered, realized it wasn't a nightmare that Darth Vader stood in her doorway. Unreasonably, she felt embarrassed when she saw her frazzled appearance reflecting in his lenses. The unmade hair and the faded makeup were obvious even in the small reflection of where his eyes were meant to be.

"Good- good morning, Lord Vader." It was morning, she decided, as the memory of the night before came back to her. All along her desk were blueprints and schematics of the Death Star. She needed to know all of it, every viewport and defense mechanism; she was learning all of it, but every time she studied one section she was forced to pause and look up the mechanics behind what she just read. It was a long process, and she doubted she would ever fully understand it.

Mechanics had never been her strong point simply because there had been no reason to learn anything about it. Then again she supposed the arts had never been her strong suit either, and that was why her brief romance with Pablo had crashed and burned so quickly.

She tried to stay strong in front of Lord Vader, having not seen him since he had taken her to see Vistin in that horrible little prison cell. She even tried to remind herself that she should be frightened in his presence, but after a long night of little sleep and with the full day's work ahead of her she leaned back in her seat while maintaining eye contact with him and wondered just how often he would stand in her doorway like this. "What can I do for you?"

That deep voice filled her office so considerably once again that it took her a moment to actually listen to his words. "I'd like to drop the charade for a moment."

 _Oh_ , she thought, he couldn't possibly mean… The familiar mix of fear and anger took over while she folded her hands across her lap and tried to look up at him blankly. "I don't know what-"

"Enough, your majesty. For the sake of time, we will put aside the fact that you are a part of the rebellion, that I know this, and that you know I know this."

She cleared her mind as though she were deleting everything inside of her, preparing for the invisible hand that would wrap around her neck she often heard in the rumors surrounding the dark lord. Maybe he was already doing it. It would certainly explain why she was having so much trouble breathing.

But she had known, hadn't she? It was almost inevitable that Darth Vader would figure her out. The Jedi had such incredible powers that she was certain they could read her mind when she had been around them. Clearly, Darth Vader had seen right through her as well.

She didn't know what to say at first, but his lightsaber wasn't out and there were no Stormtroopers around him, so she thought perhaps he wouldn't execute her now or have her arrested for whatever reason. She glanced down at the piles of information regarding the superweapon, wondered if it bothered him that she had so much classified documents on her desk. Wondered at what stage she would have outgrown her usefulness.

The politician in her snapped awake, and a bright light went off in her mind. He wanted something.

She steeled herself and let the treason be spoken. "All right, what is it that you want, Lord Vader?" She once again cursed that mask and wished she could see his face, see his reaction and figure out where to go from there. She could not tell if he was satisfied by her bluntness or for having caught her in a trap to admitting treason. His words caught her by surprise though, as usual.

"What is your relationship with the emperor?"

In all honesty, she had no idea what to say to this but figured since it had nothing to do with her connection to the rebellion she might as well be honest. Were there brownie points where Darth Vader was involved? She doubted it.

"We hail from the same planet, and I admit I knew him in my youth, but I haven't heard or seen too much of him personally the last few years."

There was an unbidden memory of this kind old man coming up to her at her coronation and wishing her luck. He seemed so frail, and she remembered his hand was large, clammy, and very bony when he shook her hand. He seemed so harmless and like such a wonderful partner to have as senator representing them to the galaxy.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that the frail old man in the Naboo traditional clothing from all those years ago was the same man that now sat on the throne in long black robes with his horrible yellow eyes. He said he'd been disfigured by the Jedi, but Padmé couldn't begin to believe this. Another lie that the whole galaxy fell for, and so quickly its people turned on the ones who protected them for over a thousand years.

She felt it then, a nudge against her mind that almost felt like a physical touch. It was small and easy to ignore at first, even gentle if one bothered to acknowledge it. There was a silent whisper that told her to let her shields down before she snapped and realized what it was. Jedi mind tricks. They work on the weak-minded: Obi-Wan Kenobi had told her so many years ago.

Padmé was not weak-minded, and she refused to let Darth Vader have anything more than she was willing to give. She pictured her thoughts, memories, even her feelings. She put a steel trap around them and refused to let him anywhere near them. She still felt that nudge, that little knocking that was attempting to get in. "I've told you the truth," she whispered. Her voice was strained both by her lack of sleep and her attempts at keeping him out.

"I know," he relented. His presence was gone from her mind, but she would not let herself relax until he was gone.

She wondered for a moment what had led him to come here, reveal that he knew what she really was all too learn about a relationship that did not exist between her and the emperor. It was troubling, but she chose not to ask. There seemed to be no getting the upper hand with Darth Vader, and she was already pushing her luck.

Suddenly, he turned and left her office. The quietness that followed was deafening as she waited for something to replace it. The hum of a lightsaber before it struck or the voice of strangers with the white masks reading the list of charges as they dragged her to Vistin's old cell. But there was nothing but the distant hum of the air conditioner and just down the hall the faded breathing and footsteps of Darth Vader.


	6. Chapter 6

She couldn't concentrate. Time was irrelevant as she tried to figure out why he'd come to her to ask about Palpatine of all things. As if the rebellion was so insignificant that it wasn't even worth a quick chat. Then instead to bring up a man she barely knew drew her curiosity.

No matter what angle she tried though, she found nothing that tied her to the emperor but their shared homeplanet.

Padmé sighed and slumped in her seat, dragging her fingers down her eyes. She no longer worried about smearing her makeup and had grown accustomed to seeing her own face on a daily basis.

"Knock, knock," a familiar voice called out. Jareth stood outside her door, a welcome relief from the last occupant of the spot.

"Hey," she greeted, casual and friendly. Normal, not royal. "What's up?"

He shrugged and took a seat across from her. "My dad's a moff. Did you know that?"

She nodded, curious but unsure where he was going with this.

"Anyway, he said when I was done with my work here there was a chance I could land a position in the capital right afterwards. Something in the tactical divisions, mostly doing intelligence work on rebel personnel."

For a moment, Padmé feared Jareth would call her out the way Vader had, but it only took one look at his kind face and bright eyes to know he was sharing this with her as a friend. No angles or attempts at getting to her in some manner.

It should have been a relief, but her guard remained up as she watched him warily, albeit with a kind face, willing to listen. "That sounds like a very tough job."

"No, not really. Dad says I do it for a couple of years and once I get it on my resume I'm up for any job in security I want. Coruscant or deep space, doesn't matter. It will be easier too, you know? Maybe even sooner than my father says with all the shakeups going on right now."

Padmé leaned forward. "Shake ups?" She hadn't heard anything.

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

Jareth sat up a bit straighter, eager to share the gossip. "News hit last night in the capital. I guess they found Jedi working in the imperial palace. They fixed up the droids, but can you imagine? Right under the emperor's nose the entire time."

"What's going to happen to them?" Padmé asked. She tried to keep it light, but her voice carried a deadly seriousness to it. Luckily, Jareth failed to notice.

"Not sure. They were arrested and probably sitting in a cell right now. Just goes to show you never know who's a threat. Anybody can be a terrorist."

So many things nearly slipped then, entire arguments about the Empire being the real terror. All of it faded when she remembered the danger she might be in with a massive crackdown and Vader knowing the truth.

"Yeah, I guess you never know." It was the only thing she could say after the wave of fear receded.

"So, it's weird that Vader's staying here if the capital is such a mess. Usually the guy seems to love taking out Jedi."

"I- what? Vader's staying longer?"

"Yeah, I guess he grounded his ship and has it closer to HQ. Getting ready for a long stay."

She only nodded, feeling sick but unsure why. Surely she saw this coming? He wouldn't just leave her alone with all the plans and connections off planet.

"Anyway, do you want to grab some breakfast?"

Padmé nodded, and together they moved down the halls to the cafeteria. All she could think about was Vader though. He was going to use her to build his Death Star, then he would kill her. She needed leverage, something to use against him. Anything that might help the Rebellion and maybe, if she were very, very lucky, save her own life.

She closed her eyes in line as she waited to be served and felt a brief pang when she looked behind the counter and found no Vistin. The answer was in front of her, but she dreaded to find out what it was.

Vader asked her about the emperor like there was an ongoing relationship between them. This could have stemmed from any number of things, but she imagined whatever set him off was real enough that somebody like him would question her so straightforwardly instead of dismissing it as rumor.

There were always stories surrounding the emperor and Vader. Most assumed they were father and son, and the general consensus was that the throne would be left to Vader. Still, Padmé didn't exactly see them getting together on holidays to exchange gifts and catch up. She couldn't even imagine them having a pleasant conversation.

She shook her head and pushed away every little thought that snuck up on her. Fear was a paralyzer that led to a great deal of pain. Or so a friend and great Jedi once told her.

* * *

Being ahead of schedule may have looked good on paper, but the reality was they were going through supplies faster than they could be delivered. In the week after her confrontation with Vader, her desk was filled with slips from various engineering departments requesting more of everything and warning her that they would be out soon.

Although not her original responsibility, it did fall under the late general's agenda. She put in an order request and budget change to a highly-classified department back on Coruscant informing them of the changes that would be needed.

It was while she was sending a message to heads of departments about this request, she received an incoming message from the galactic capital. Without a thought, she answered.

The sight of the emperor was a frightening one, perhaps more so than Vader.

Those yellow eyes and the deformed face that looked back on her left her breathless for a moment, certain that she was not seeing things clearly. A mistake or a trick of light.

"Amidala, how much you've grown," his voice croaked, tight but steady. Warm almost, maybe that of a politician who smoked all their life.

"Your majesty," she answered back as calmly as possible. She tried to find that frame of mind that kept her own thoughts coherent when Vader was around. Surely if she could face Vader in person she could speak to his master on the other side of the galaxy.

She thought quickly and went with flattery, "Naboo is so proud to see one of their own take such an esteemed office. I'm sorry I did not have the chance to tell you this upon your coronation."

His smile was tight but quickly relaxed as he regarded her. "I will admit I was rather surprised to learn that you would take such a militant heavy job."

She relaxed and cleared her mind. "I could not help but wonder if we would have lost less lives during the invasion of Naboo if we'd had some greater leverage to ensure peace back then." A terrible lie but the first thing that came to mind when looking into those yellow eyes.

He nodded back solemnly as though the biggest moment of her political career also hurt him deeply. As though their shared home plant and its history stayed with him as much as it did her. There was nothing sincere in the deep lines of his face, nothing that would have made her even suspect he cared about the weight that she had carried for nearly a decade now.

"I saw your request for more materials and took a look at the project. You're doing quite well, aren't you? Getting so much further ahead of schedule than your predecessors."

Suddenly, this success felt more like a burden. All she could do was nod.

"Good. Very good." Like a pet. "I'll be sure to tell the home office to give you priority."

"Thank you, your majesty."

The signal faded, and even though the conversation had lasted two minutes at most she was left completely shaken. Her legs were weak, and it was tempting to put her head on her desk for a minute and calm herself down. Instead she stared thoughtlessly across her office and let her thoughts slowly return. It was overwhelming for a moment, that feeling of being so small and weak.

Soon though, she felt an overwhelming sense of power.

She got up and went straight out her office door, unwilling to think too hard about what she was about to do. Instead she sought out Darth Vader.

* * *

She didn't know where to go at first, having never been the one to seek him out before. He held no office in the main building, and where he went after strangling her coworkers she wasn't certain. Her confidence fell for a moment before she could talk herself back into seeking him. The emperor contacted her so shortly after Vader had confronted her about the old man. Something was brewing, and the need to know forced her onwards to the emperor's hand.

Her initial thought was to go to his ship since Jareth told her it was grounded so close to HQ. She backed away from this though, something about going to his ship seemed to brazen. She checked a few other places first, meeting areas and other officers and managers offices.

She was nearly giving up, the momentum that had carried her before deflating, and she was ready to return to her living area for a night of restless sleep when she tried one last manager's office. He was pudgy and low on the totem pole, a little too eager to invite her in.

"What can I do for you, Ma'am?" the older man asked. His hair was fading and his fingers fat, but overall he seemed like a nice fellow.

"I was looking for Lord Vader, sir. I have business to discuss with him. Do you know where he is or how to get in contact with him?" The door was open and was close enough to an exit outside that a rarely felt cool breeze filtered in, pleasant after a day spent inside.

The natural air felt so nice that she was nearly oblivious to the surprise and horror that crossed the man's face. It had been the same story with everybody else she spoke to about Vader. Always so afraid at the near mention of the name. Ordinarily she would sympathize, but still riding off the high of a short conversation with the emperor she kept pushing forward.

"Ma'am, maybe there's somebody else you could speak to instead of Lord Vader. I'm sure somebody else could assist you."

She gave a tight smile and shook her head. "Thank you for your time."

Her exit was paused when she saw a young man standing just outside the building about to come in. She still didn't know everything about military uniform, but judging by his getup he was fairly important with his various decorations. All on such a young man, too.

"Are you seeking out Lord Vader, Ma'am?"

"Yes," she nearly stuttered, unsure of what to make of the man before her.

"Officer Piett," he introduced politely, outstretching his hand. She was quick to shake it.

"Padmé Amidala."

"I couldn't help but overhear you just now, Miss Amidala. If you need to get into contact with Lord Vader, I might be able to help."

She watched him wearily. "Call me Padmé, please, and are you able to contact Vader?"

"I can if you need to meet with him."

"Yes, I'd like to speak to him in person if he's not too busy."

A look of sympathy seemed to grow in the man's eyes, but he only nodded. "Of course."

He pulled out a holocomm and dialed quickly. She wondered if he got into contact with the sith lord regularly. A fresh wave of nerves washed over Padmé, but she did her best to keep her reserve and appear as indifferent as possible.

"What is it?" the familiar voice snapped. His image did not appear, but it was without a doubt Vader on the other end.

To his credit, Piett was good at keeping his composure under the harshness of the voice. "Sir, I'm with Padmé Amidala now. She wishes to have a meeting with you." Piett's grey eyes glanced up at her to confirm that was really what she wanted. She gave him a small smile and ignored the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

There was a long pause on Vader's end before he said, "I'll be there in an hour."

"Actually, it's important." Padmé jumped in before the comm could disconnect. Regret washed over her, especially when she saw Piett wince and shrink just a bit before quickly straightening up again.

It was true enough, though. She was sick of meeting him in her office. Despite it being hers, more often than not the space was too small and him too consuming. A new space might not be the solution, but it couldn't hurt.

There was nothing on the other end, and she feared he'd hung up before she heard a steady inhale and exhale. "Very well."

This time it did disconnect, and a moment later the comm beeped in Piett's hand.

"He's at hangar 27."

* * *

She went into the building with some trepidation, looking at the large ships which she had little experience with. She could hardly pilot one on her own, having had her parents and then chauffeur's her entire life.

But she could hear the mechanical breathing echoing over the tall walls between the various ships. She wondered if he could sense her presence or as a non-force sensitive she was insignificant enough to go on undetected. Uncertain, she did not call out for him but continued to move in the general direction of the mechanical sound that she was familiar with.

She saw him, his black clad arms elbow deep in a ship he was working on, doing God knows what to the machine.

"Lord Vader?" She finally called attention to her presence. But it didn't matter, he ignored her for several long seconds and continued working.

She waited patiently, standing with her hands behind her back and watching several yards away as he resealed the opening with its appropriate panel and wiped away the mess on his arms.

"Yes, Miss Naberrie?"

"I'd like to drop the charade for a moment, Lord Vader," she repeated his words from earlier. It worked, because even though he didn't give her his full attention she knew he was listening very closely.

"Go on then," his deep voice boomed at her when she let the silence drag on.

She pressed her lips together before relaxing, "I spoke with the emperor today."

He swung his black lenses down on her, but she did not shrink from them like she might have before. Her guard was up in her mind, but her body relaxed, ready to take the scrutiny. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a few tools left out shaking from his sudden burst of energy. His presence returned in her mind, not even subtle this time as he tried to pry the conversation out of her. She couldn't fight back but only curled further and further away. She pictured the meadows of Naboo at the forefront of her mind and knew that was all he could see from her.

"Why did you ask about my _relationship_ with him, Lord Vader?"

He still hadn't let up completely from his probing but seemed to understand she only wanted to talk about the encounter. Before he could snap at her or worse, take her to the same room Vistin had died in, Padmé stood straighter and repeated over and over to herself, leverage.

Despite standing her tallest, she was still much shorter than the dark lord, but it didn't matter at that moment. She finally had something that may just prolong her life. At least, that would be ideal.

"I'll tell you everything we discussed, but first, why did you think there was a connection to begin with?" she asked, only the slightest tenseness to her voice.

That's when she felt it, not the probing of her mind but a definitive pressure around her neck. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, but the message was clear. Don't press your luck. She yielded a bit, trying to take discreet deep breaths and thankful to feel the air rush into her lungs unobstructed.

Vader waved his hand, not at her but around the room. There weren't many droids, but the ones that had been anywhere near them obediently left the area. There was a light click that Padmé suspected were any cameras left in the room shutting off.

He said nothing at first, but she waited patiently, trying to hide her anxiety.

"When I first discovered you were the rebel leak, I looked up your files. The usual stuff except for a few classified documents that I could not access."

This surprised her, and she raked her mind, trying to think of what was possibly out there that needed to be classified from the emperor's hand. Then it clicked: the only person above Vader was the emperor.

"You think the emperor has some interest in me?" she asked, half to clarify and half a genuine concern for what could be in those files.

"You hail from the same planet and have a shared past. You said there was no relationship, but there's something you may be overlooking."

As much as it pained her to admit it, he was right. "I knew the emperor for many years leading up to my election. My parents were in his social circle," she answered honestly. Back then he had only been the old, kind face that her parents were friends with. He'd even come over for dinner a few times. Her father, a professor of economics, often liked to visit with politicians, and Palpatine had been one of the faster, more popular senators Naboo had.

The day Palpatine had declared himself emperor his name had become forbidden in the Naberrie family home, said only when necessary with undertones of bitterness. Perhaps that was why Ruwee was in the rebellion long before his daughter, on a personal campaign against somebody who sat in their home and lied to their faces.

"Now, your conversation with the emperor?"

She hesitated, almost sheepishly that it wasn't some grand revelation she could give him.

"He asked me about this job, why I took it. He seemed impressed by the progress and promised to speed up my request for more materials."

Padmé half expected him to feel tricked or upset that she didn't have that much to offer. Instead he asked, "What did you tell him when he asked why you took this job?"

"I told him I wished we had some insurance like a superweapon when Naboo was invaded my first year as queen, to force the peace."

Vader said nothing for a moment, and she felt her panic growing. Before she could stop herself, she was speaking without thought. "I was fourteen and only in office for a few months when we had to flee the palace. It was too dangerous to do much until-"

Padmé stopped talking as soon as she realized what she was about to say. Stupid, so, so stupid.

"Until what?"

She forced her eyes to stay on his, even though she suddenly felt the overwhelming need to flee. "Until two Jedi knights saved us."

If there was one thing Vader was famous for, it was his overwhelming hatred for the jedi. He'd hunted them down, and now only a few remained scattered through the galaxy. There'd been the one caught just a day ago working in the Imperial palace, and stories always came up of strangers with great powers in the most isolated places around the galaxy. There for a minute and then gone before anything could be done about them.

Padmé only remembered the relief when those lightsabers came crashing down on the droids. So many lives lost that day, and she'd hid like a coward in the handmaid's uniform behind Sabé, so sure that after only a few months she'd lost everything for her planet. To see those green and blue beams of light and to meet Obi-Wan and his student had been such a relief.

She often wondered (and hoped) Obi-Wan Kenobi was still alive and had escaped the purges.

Otherwise, she was likely speaking to his killer now.

"They saved our lives," she finished quietly. The treaty with the Gungans and taking back her throne came later, but she remembered the way the fear ebbed with each step, that even the sight of Darth Maul couldn't have stopped her from getting to that throne room.

"Get out."

She wasn't sure if she heard him right at first.

"Get out!" he yelled this time. She turned and did exactly that.

* * *

A few days went by with no sight of Vader in them. Padmé did see Piett a few times and gave him a slight nod before going on her way, pretending everything was fine. She focused on work and did little else.

It was late at night or very early morning when she made it back to her apartment. She was just getting ready for a shower when the knocking came. Maybe she expected it eventually, or maybe she was too tired to care, but the sight of Darth Vader at her door was not a shock.

He entered her modest place as soon as she opened up, and before she could close the door he began to speak. "I have a proposal for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta as usual, and sorry for the long wait.


	7. Chapter 7

Obi-Wan Kenobi looked at least a decade older than he was. The lines around his eyes were deep, and the scars that covered his body painted a picture of a man who had seen too much violence. Still, those who knew him vouched for his kind, if not dutiful nature.

Of course, those who knew him before the purges could see the new weight he carried on his shoulders, the way he struggled to release the ghosts of his past into the force, as any well-trained Jedi knew how. There was nothing anybody could do to council him. He was the highest-ranking Jedi left amongst the survivors.

He knew that Yoda had escaped the purges and had even felt his presence deep in the force far away. Obi-Wan knew there would be a time when it was safe to contact the wisest of them all, when it was time to vanquish the Sith that had caught them all by surprise.

Obi-Wan had spent most of the day meditating after the news came. A young Jedi found in the Imperial Palace was set to be executed in the following weeks. He'd never met the boy but felt an overwhelming sense of failure that another would be killed soon, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He looked up at the stars and wondered how many of his brothers and sisters wandered aimlessly, calling out but never too loudly.

"Master Kenobi?" a young padawan asked. One of the few survivors left after the temple had been raided.

"Yes," Obi-Wan asked, pulling his eyes away from the sky to look down at the child before him. A boy of about eight, human and obviously tired.

"How much longer until we go home?"

Obi-Wan could only watch the young child before him with mourning. "I'm… I'm not sure," he admitted with honestly. The boy could be an old man before they ever returned to their place as protectors of the galaxy.

The boy frowned. "Master Yoda told us not to lose faith."

At this, the Knight raised a tired brow. "Is Yoda talking with you again?"

The boy nodded almost sheepishly. Yoda had been one of the main instructors for all of the younger recruits and had a close bond with them. It was no surprise that he would be trying to reassure them, even now when he was hidden so far away.

"He's right," was all he could reply.

Obi-Wan turned back to the stars and let his eyes wander across the great vastness of it. Now if only he could get the same reassurance.

* * *

Padmé took a deep breath and turned to face her visitor. It occurred to her that this was where she communicated with Mothma and rebel contacts. Having Vader here felt like a distinct boundary had been crossed.

"Your proposal?" she asked.

"It's clear that the emperor has some sort of interest in you from the files he's kept classified, even from me."

Padmé nodded and took a seat. Vader began a light pace before turning and scrutinizing her.

"When he called you last week I believe he was making an assessment." His voice was lower and much more serious than she'd ever heard it before.

She kept her face neutral, asking carefully, "What do you want from me?"

His breathing was loud but nothing compared to her heartbeat.

"He will contact you again. He's planning something, and you're involved somehow. Whenever he speaks to you, you will tell me everything that he says."

She watched him very closely for a long moment. She was falling back into the familiar feeling she got around him. Her stomach churned and she was certain she was shaking if she cared to release her hands from the tight fists she had them in. A numbness had settled over her, and even though she knew it was dangerous, it was becoming comforting. There was no way she could ever be fearless from Darth Vader, but there was a part of her that was able to distance the threat he was and watch almost like a third party as he stood there in her apartment.

"I tell you everything whenever the emperor speaks with me, and you'll what? Not kill me right away?"

"Careful, Rebel."

She took a calming breath and looked back at him. "What if he doesn't contact me again?"

"He will."

"But what if-"

"I said he will."

Padmé wasn't sure how he could be so certain but figured she should just agree with him for now.

"I want unmonitored communication with off planet contacts."

"Your alliance contacts," he spit back at her. It there was one emotion that transferred easily in that mask, it was disgust.

"I will continue with my full efforts to get your Death Star past its critical stages, and I'll tell you everything the emperor may speak to me about, but when this is all over I'm sure I'll be dead." She watched for a moment to see if he might disagree, but when there was nothing she exhaled and continued. "All of that will mean nothing, and I can die right now if I'm not given this."

There was a horrible pause where she was certain he would kill her.

It dragged on while he watched her without moving, the black lenses focused entirely on her, and for once she lowered her guard just the tiniest bit. Let him see this is the truth, she thought. I'm not afraid to die.

"I could have you tortured the way I had all the others." The words were frightening. She could see Vistin and countless others before him.

"You could," she answered quietly.

The silence dragged on before he began to head for the door. She watched, certain there were Stormtroopers on the other side.

"Discreetly. You may talk to your friends unmonitored by me."

Her surprise left her paralyzed. She flipped and shouted, "Wait!" before he could leave.

"Yes?" he asked tightly from her closed door.

"How will I contact you if- when the emperor calls me again?"

"Come to my ship."

He was gone then, her door closing behind him. Although she couldn't hear much from the hallways, she could imagine the sound of his breathing echoing and the steady rhythm of his boots as he went further away.

She stood and was surprised to find herself steady, not shaking as she thought she would be after another encounter with Vader. For a horrifying moment, she wondered if she was getting used to these terrible meetings with him.

She dismissed this thought, though. The conclusion was inevitable. When the Death Star weaponry was out of the critical stages, she would die. Before she went to her early grave, she intended to make it count by giving the Alliance everything they needed to undo her work. That much was worth dying for.

* * *

There was a schedule given to her a few days after Vader's visit listing the dates when various Moffs would arrive.

She read it a few times before deciding it was information that would be useful to Mothma. When she began the connection to the encoded number, she wondered if Vader was staying true to his agreement and hadn't set up some way of monitoring her. For now, she would operate as though he was true to his word.

After a moment, one of pillars to the rebellion greeted her. Padmé gave the warmest smile she could manage.

"Amidala, I was getting worried when we didn't hear from you these last weeks."

Looking at somebody who represented so much of the rebellion was overwhelming for a second. The feeling of betrayal left an ugly feeling in Padmé's heart, and though she was certain she would never be able to tell Mothma of her deal with Vader or of the contact she'd had with the emperor, in that moment it was very tempting to tell her everything.

She held back her emotions and only nodded. "With Darth Vader's presence on the planet, I've held back from contacting you until I had enough information to justify the risk," she answered robotically. "I'm sending it now."

The latest blueprints and schedules began to transfer to Mothma, who smiled approvingly. Padmé felt another sharp burst of guilt.

"How has it been having Vader there?" Mothma asked while the files finished their transfer.

The former queen answered slowly albeit truthfully. "His presence is… overwhelming. I've tried to stay out of his way."

At this, Mothma's smile dropped. "Do you think he knows?" she asked it very cautiously and watched Padmé closely.

This was it, where she would have to actively lie to one of her oldest colleagues, somebody who she both trusted and respected. The guilt grew, but she reminded herself that everything she was doing was for the greater good of the Republic and the return of democracy.

"No. I've managed to stay undetected."

Mothma accepted it so easily, too. It hurt because it affirmed what Padmé always hoped for, that trust and respect were mutual between them.

"Okay. Good, I'm glad. I understand this is difficult, Amidala, and dangerous, but I promise you it's for a good cause."

"Yes, I know," she answered back with absolute certainty. "It will be worth it."

It had to be.

* * *

The uprisings were becoming more frequent and much more violent. Although she disliked violence, Padmé couldn't help but silently support the slaves of Despayre who were trying to escape their servitude. It was all useless, though.

They'd had some impact as manufacturing halted in some areas, but before long they'd be back to full speed, of that she was certain.

An impromptu meeting was held in the boardroom. Padmé did not schedule it, nor did she run it; she sat in the back, listening to the others. Their main concern was how this would look when big Moffs began to check in and see their progress.

While the others spoke loudly over what they thought the course of action should be, Padmé pictured Naboo. The waterfalls, the smell of the wildflowers, the pleasant villages spread out all around the planet. She began to miss it terribly and longed for a quick swim in the pristine waters when she realized the room was silent.

Silent save for his breathing.

A part of her cried out, so tired of his sudden appearances and so tired of having to survive one confrontation after the next. Another small part of her was actually relieved to see him, if only it meant the end of this meeting.

"Lord Vader, we were just discussing the recent uprisings. Would you care to join us- " the young manager quickly shrunk away when Vader's eyes landed on him.

"Everybody out," he commanded. Quickly, the room emptied, but just when she was standing to leave the black lenses of his eyes fell back on her, and she knew she would be staying.

She sunk into her seat and waited until they were alone.

"Why haven't these uprisings been stopped?" He asked the moment the doors closed.

Oh. So, he did want to talk about actual work.

She relaxed in her seat and, feeling rather bold, said, "If I recall, it was you who said we just needed to cut their supplies and starve them out."

Maybe it was a mistake to get cocky now, but she watched him from her place across the room and felt almost certain she wouldn't die during this encounter.

"Then they're getting supplies from other sources. Friends of yours?"

She lost some of her confidence under the accusation. "No," she may have said a little too quickly. It was the truth, anyway. Mothma had pulled out all other Alliance members.

"Then why haven't you done more to stop this?" his deep voice cut at her. He was definitely playing boss now, forgetting their interactions and deals outside of the office. Padmé switched from defensive rebel to competent employee. The truth was, though, that although it fell under her duties she just couldn't bring herself to stop people fighting for freedom. Even when she was in the role of Imperial employee, there was no stopping the real Padmé from shining through, the one that loved democracy and the freedom all living creatures deserved.

Her anger grew as she glared at the man before her. "You've stopped them before, haven't you?"

"When it became necessary."

"Then what's stopping you now?"

"I expected you to have handled this by now."

Her patience thinning and her mood souring, "I can't exactly force them to work. They're conscious beings, not droids."

"What would you know of servitude?" Vader snapped back at her. Except that it was genuine anger she heard in his artificial voice. She knew then that she needed to stop herself and focus on self-preservation, but something reckless in her wanted to keep going, aware that the consequences could be dire if she went too far.

"I know that it's wrong, and the fact that we're using it disgusts me."

There was a sharp snort from beneath the mask, once again making her question who was under there.

"Yes, I'm sure this sudden change from your precious planet has been quite the shock. Slavery has always existed, even during the Republic."

"And it was wrong then too."

"You didn't care then because you didn't have to see it. You wouldn't care now if you didn't see it every day."

She stood up then, face burning with anger, indignation, and maybe even a little shame. "I do care, and we both know I'm not just sitting around letting this happen."

"Careful, your highness."

"I hate this! I hate hurting those people and forcing them to do this. You want to stop them? Fine. But don't expect me to-" She stopped and watched him. He held so still, eyes boring down on her. For a moment, she wasn't even sure he was breathing and the following silence left her ears ringing.

When he said nothing and she finally calmed herself down, she took her seat again. With one more calming breath, she looked back up at him. "Is that all you wanted to talk about, Lord Vader?"

He glared down at her. "Stop their uprising and continue ahead of schedule."

* * *

She was still so angry when she returned to her office that she began to seriously consider forgetting everything and taking the rest of the day off.

He knew she was part of the Rebel Alliance. How could he possibly think she was okay with slavery? Or that stopping an uprising was just something she could throw on her schedule, no big deal. Slaughter may have come so naturally to him, but every life lost because of her decisions as queen stayed with her and would likely follow her for the rest of her life.

She wanted to go home, her real home, not her bare apartment just down the road. Naboo. There was no way she could, but for a moment the idea was calming enough.

She sat and was actually able to get some work done, send out a few inquiry messages about stopping the uprisings, make sure that important pieces of the Death Star had been delivered to the right hangers. Even immersed in her work, though, the overwhelming longing for home remained.

It was all for the Rebellion, and her happiness was nothing compared to the sacrifice of her life, which she already accepted as good as gone.

* * *

Vader was certain he hated her. Not in a long time had somebody gotten so under his skin that he couldn't kill them and be done with it. Palpatine was the only other who came to mind. Of course, they came from the same planet. The thought of using the Death Star on Naboo suddenly became very appealing, though he doubted it would hurt the emperor in the slightest.

It would devastate the former queen, though, which might just be worth the wrath of the Emperor. There was no point in meditating. All his thoughts revolved around Padmé and how much of a useful nuisance she'd become in figuring out whatever Palpatine had hidden up his sleeves.

If there were any indication that she was integral to his master's plans, it became all the more tempting to get rid of her within the hour, a speedy construction of the Death Star be damned. Vader began to pace through his room, for once out of the suit and breathing in the heavily ventilated and artificial air. It still irritated his lungs, but there were no serious coughing fits this time.

It didn't matter. All too soon, he was being called by the emperor himself. Quickly putting his suit back on, he answered in his usual bow with masked thoughts of finally killing the old man and fulfilling his destiny.

"Rise, my friend."

"Yes, my master?"

The same yellow eyes as his own, the same ones he'd known nearly two decades now looked down on him from the video image.

"Excellent news," the grainy image before Vader spoke, "not much longer and we'll have the Imperial Senate no longer able to draft bills but rather vote on ones we send them."

Though not of particular interest to Vader, he only nodded and waited for the real reason Palpatine would call.

"I know you must have heard of the Jedi we discovered here in the palace. Not much of a concern, he was so weak in the force, but I'm afraid I need you to stay on Despayre longer than originally intended. You will have to miss the execution."

There was no point in telling his master he'd already landed his ship and settled in for a long stay or that controlled executions did not interest him rather than the thrill of the hunt. That would cause too much trouble, so instead he answered with the usual, "As you wish, Master."

"Good. Good."

He waited for more, but the old man only continued to watch him intently. Vader rarely felt social discomfort, and this was probably the closest he came to that. "Will you require anything else, Master?"

One old eyebrow cocked, he gave a grin that showed all his greyed and rotted teeth. "I hear construction is well above schedule."

Vader nodded, "Yes, it is."

He waited for more, but there was a quick and thoughtless farewell before the image before him disappeared and he was left blessedly alone. He didn't take his suit off again, though. Right about now the emperor would be making another call to Padmé, and if she stuck to their deal than he expected a visit from her soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to slumberdollx for the editing, as usual. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Padmé walked to the grounded ship. It was a model she was unfamiliar with and lacked the sleekness she was accustomed too. It was docked not far from the main office building, just on the border of the decaying woodland, removed but close enough. She'd never thought about Vader's prized ships, which were infamous through the galaxy for their effectiveness, but seeing the smaller docked home of the Sith lord she felt little fear.

At the opened back hatch, two Stormtroopers stood at strict attention. She heard the soft rustle, though, as a finger laid on the trigger at the sight of her approach.

"Halt!"

She stopped and slowly showed her hands. "Padmé Amidala for Lord Vader, please."

They both hesitated but reluctantly complied. She waited patiently and wondered just how often people came to call on Vader.

"Come with me." One Stormtrooper turned and walked inside. She looked at him curiously and wondered if he was a familiar cloned solider, the faces she'd grown accustomed to towards the end of the Republic. His posture and height said as much as Padmé followed behind him, trying to look for anything of use for the rebellion as they made their way through the halls but found there wasn't much. The walls were bare save for the occasional evacuation or safety sign. They entered the living quarters, a long hall of cramped dorms for most men but the further they went the doors spaced out as rooms grew bigger. On the doors, there were symbols for rank in the military for officer's respective rooms. They walked all the way down the halls until they were at the furthest compartments from the others, the entrance naked of any rank or symbol of who occupied the space.

The Stormtrooper knocked twice and stood at a rigid attention, more so than he'd been outside. The door slid, and Padmé took in the sight of Vader in his own room for once, rather than meeting him in her abodes. "Excused," he dismissed the Stormtrooper without taking his eyes off of her.

"Yes, sir."

Vader stepped inside and allowed her in.

She wasn't sure what she expected to find in his personal space. There really wasn't much. A sort of egg dome off to the corner was the only possible place he was sleeping, as there was no bed. A few panels where she was certain droids were hidden behind. There was some scattered machinery that did not look complete and a holocom and monitor mounted to the wall.

She stepped inside with some reluctance, if only because she felt like she was invading his place, an unwelcome guest despite the many times he'd invaded her office and apartment.

The door closed, but she stayed close, unsure where else she could go. There was no sitting area.

"The emperor, then?"

She nodded and dropped her eyes to the floor for a second.

"You were right. He contacted me."

She leaned almost casually against the wall and finally looked at him. He was all she could focus on in the barren room. "He wants me to go to Coruscant to witness the execution of the Jedi they found there. He says he has a job offer for me."

Vader said nothing at first, and she tried to think of anything else she could add. Her mind was blank. Despite the conversation happening within the hour, it felt like days had gone by.

"Excellent," Vader finally responded.

"You're glad he called for me?"

He ignored her. "When does he plan for you to arrive?"

"Two days. The execution is going to happen just after he makes some sort of announcement."

"He's taking more power from the Senate," Vader dismissed quickly. If she didn't know any better, she would say he was pleased with the entire thing.

"This job offer may just be what he has so classified for you."

She absentmindedly gnawed on her lip before releasing it. An old habit she didn't want to restart. "Will you be coming?"

"No, my master has already instructed me to stay here." She felt a pang at his words. It was silly to feel them. Vader was not her ally, but it might have been nice to have him there when she went into an unfamiliar place. Then she heard all of his words and felt her brows pinch.

"Master? So, the emperor is also a Sith Lord?" Long suspected by the Rebellion but never fully confirmed. It was Vader that led the assault on the Jedi temple while Palpatine took the throne. The few Jedi that survived and managed to contact the Rebellion could only say that they never sensed much power from the Emperor. There was darkness, to be sure, but not power.

"Yes, take that to your misguided friends," he spoke indifferently. He was thinking about something else, and she knew it would involve her when she was in the Imperial Palace.

"Our deal was that I would tell you about any conversations I had with the emperor. If you're thinking of having me act in any way when I get there violates our agreement."

Although not even remotely Force-sensitive, she did feel a brief wave of something in the room. It pulsed with power, and she knew it had to be something close to hate. When he spoke, though, she swore there was a cruel amount of amusement in his artificial voice, it almost made the usual deepness seem lighter.

"He will not give you a job offer. He will reassign you if that is his plan."

"And stay on Coruscant?" She managed to keep her face stoic, but her voice betrayed her alarm.

"Perhaps."

Before she could worry herself further, Vader was speaking again.

"Our deal still stands, of course."

"You would want me to report on conversations I have with the emperor even while there?"

"Yes."

She scowled. "But I wouldn't be able to contact my people."

"You could, and I would say nothing. You may want to reconsider of course, given the levels of security in the capitol."

She gave up on good posture and dignified grace, choosing to slump back against the wall and watch him, feeling anger bubbling inside of her. She wouldn't lose control though. Not like when they discussed slavery.

"How would I communicate with you?"

He turned and went to one of the panels of his walls. It slid open to a few shelves stocked with more gadgets and pieces of technology. She couldn't see much past his broad figure, except for the lifeless golden droid covered in dust in one corner, its blank eyes staring right back at her.

She pulled her attention away from the old service droid when Vader turned back to her. He tossed something at her, and she had to push off the wall and jump forward to catch it properly. She looked into her palms and saw a holocom. Bulkier than most and much heavier.

"It will call me directly and would be difficult to hack or trace. It will go undetected on Coruscant, but don't let anybody see it."

She dragged her fingers across the metal and realized she now had a direct line with one of her greatest enemies. Mothma's face came to mind and unwelcomed shame returned to her.

"Is that everything then, Lord Vader?"

"At this time."

She straightened herself up and slipped the comlink into her pocket. She turned to exit but hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should say goodbye or ask for any more instructions about her time on Coruscant. It only lasted a moment before she pushed her way out of the compartment and moved quickly down the halls, blindly moving and trying to remember the path the Stormtrooper had taken her when he led her to Vader.

It was only when she saw the open exit ramp that she knew went the right way. She felt the change in temperature where the planets humidity leaked in and the dryness of her lips in the natural air so unlike the artificial air in Vader's room.

The realization caused her to pause before she reached the exit. He took off his mask in his room.

* * *

In her apartment, Padmé packed her trunk thoughtlessly with the things she might need.

It was silly, but all she could think about was Vader and his room. It was the only explanation for the heavily ventilated air, but the thought that he could even take off the mask was odd. She could only imagine what was under the suit and what he actually looked like.

Disfigured and grotesque faces came to mind.

She dropped the clothes she'd been holding and sighed. With a great deal of reluctance, she knew she had to contact Mothma again. Lying still made her feel overwhelming guilt, but the Alliance would find out sooner or later. Better now than when they saw her watching the execution. She shook her head. She hadn't thought about what she was called on to witness and didn't want to. The thought of having to stand there and watch somebody be killed while the entire galaxy saw her was… vile. She was not unaccustomed to eyes on her from an entire planet, but it was usually with pride and after she'd done something she could stand by. Unpopular legislation or security measures that needed to be enacted for the people of Naboo, she'd taken heat for things like that. Never as a witness to an unfair death, though.

She went into her room and dialed her memorized number. It took longer than usual, which only made Padmé bite on her lip before Mothma appeared on screen.

"Amidala, what's happened?" the redhead asked without any pleasantries, her sharp blue eyes locking onto Padmé the moment their connection cleared.

The former queen felt a flash of panic that Mothma knew more than she should. "What do you mean?" she asked a little too quickly.

"Two calls in one week? What did you learn?"

"The emperor has requested that I attend the execution of the Jedi found in Coruscant." There was a long pause, and not since Vader did Padmé struggle to maintain eye contact.

Mothma said, "He asked this of you personally?"

"Yes."

Perhaps she was paranoid or reading too much into the slightest motions, but Padmé swore she saw hints of suspicion on Mothma's face. The tightening of her eyebrows, the pressing of her lips and the squinting of her eyes. She relaxed quickly, but Padmé knew what she had seen.

"Have you been in contact with him at all since you arrived on Despayre?"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she maintained her composure. The truth was that he had spoken to her once, but the conversation was insignificant, and as Vader had pointed out, an assessment of herself. It would be more damning to mention it now if she'd given no indication of it before to Mothma.

"No. I haven't spoken to him in years."

They watched each other for several seconds.

"I see…"

Padmé leaned forward and tried to open up her body language, as she had on her throne when she was speaking, trying to let people know she could be trusted. "There's something else."

"Oh?"

"He has indicated that there may be a job for me in the capitol."

Mothma shook her head slowly. "We have no data of any position open that close to the emperor right now. Do you have any idea what it could be?"

"None, I'm afraid."

"Do you know why he'd offer this?"

"He mentioned his delight that we were so far ahead of schedule with the battle station." It wasn't a complete lie, just a different conversation.

"Padmé, I don't like this."

"Neither do I," she admitted.

"I'll need to talk to the others about this as soon as possible. When are you leaving?"

"Two days."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?" she asked with a gravely serious voice.

Padmé didn't hesitate. "No, that's all." There was no way to confirm that the emperor was a Sith based only on conversations with him, and the information wasn't vital enough to be imminently told. Especially given that she couldn't think of a way to confirm the status without giving the source. It also seemed… wrong to mention that Vader had a place where he could remove his mask. Even if she could find a way to give that information without a reason why she knew, it just seemed so callous.

"I will contact you if there's anything we need to discuss before you leave. It will be too dangerous once you've left Despayre. Otherwise, please take care of yourself, Amidala."

The line cut, and before she could let herself feel overwhelmed, she returned to her packing. The commlink Vader had given her was in her pocket and felt too heavy. She stuffed it between dresses and buried it in her trunk.

* * *

Jareth found her at lunch before she was scheduled to leave. He sat across from her without any food and scrutinized her while she finished chewing and swallowing her ration. Gone was the usually friendly face.

"What's up?" she asked casually, trying to hide her trepidation.

"You're leaving?"

"Only for a little while," she answered hesitantly. In all honesty, she didn't know if or when she would be back.

"It's… a great honor. To be called on, I mean."

"Yes. It is, isn't it?"

He was too quiet.

"Jareth, what's wrong?"

He slouched and gave a soft shrug. "Sucks to see you go, is all."

"I'll be back."

"They'll see how great you are and want you to stay there to work."

"Maybe." What a world that would be, one she had no desire to live in.

Jareth relaxed and gave her a quick smile. "It's okay, I'll be there soon enough. Can't get rid of me yet."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He stood. "Gonna go get something to eat." She watched him, but there was something different about him.

Although she wasn't military, Jareth was, and on some level, they were equals on Despayre. She couldn't help but wonder if he was jealous that she may just get promoted when she went to Coruscant. Then again, she could just as easily be executed.

Once again, she wished she wouldn't be going alone, but when she thought of her trip off of Despayre, it wasn't Jareth she wanted with her.

The thought of Vader was sudden and startling. She buried it along with everything else that gave her discomfort and finished her meal with only thoughts of home.

* * *

As the ship lifted off the planet, she watched the few buildings surrounded by rotting jungle grow smaller. Unbidden, her eyes drifted past the office building to the ship just behind it. She wondered if he was in there now, perhaps scaring everybody into work while she was away.

She kept her eyes on the planet until distance had shrunk it into a little marble. The ship jumped into hyperspace, and it was gone.

"We'll be there in a few hours. Can I get anything for you, Ma'am?" a service droid asked, not unlike the one she'd seen in Vader's closet, only this one was silver.

"I need to contact my family," Padmé answered slowly.

The last thing she wanted was for the Naberrie family to see her witnessing the execution of a Jedi and think she was there on her own volition.

"Of course, Ma'am. It will be set up immediately."

"Thank you."

She couldn't pull herself from the sight of the flashing stars and planets as they went closer to the heart of civilization. The thought of seeing the emperor in person was unnerving, and she wondered if he would figure out about her deal with Vader somehow.

"It's ready, Ma'am."

She nodded and pulled herself away from the viewport. "Thank you."

She sat down and let the comm dial out to Naboo. It rang only a few times before her mother answered.

It took a moment before recognition hit her, "Padmé! Ruwee, get in here, it's Padmé!"

"Hi, Mom." She smiled, feeling a slight weight lift off her shoulders. It was nice to see her mother. Her familiar face never failed to comfort her.

"Did you tell her she needs to call more?" Ruwee Naberrie asked before he appeared on camera. He smiled at her, "You need to call more."

She nodded. "I'm really, really sorry I haven't. Works just been so busy and-"

"No work talk," Jobal admonished.

"Actually, that's why I'm calling."

Two very concerned sets of eyes fell on her. The weight of parental concern perhaps caused more guilt than the head of the rebellion could ever drag out of the former queen.

"You see, the Empire has honored me by asking me to attend the execution of a traitor." Her stomach flopped, and she found herself focusing on the bowl of fruit sitting on the counter behind her parents rather than looking at either of them.

"Oh, Padmé…" Jobal sighed sadly, gone with the happiness from the initial call.

"That is an honor," Ruwee answered quickly.

The trio sat silently for far too long before Padmé could finally look at them. "I love you guys."

"Padmé, you look exhausted," Jobal whispered.

"I just… tell me about Sola. How's the wedding planning coming along?"

Her parents both stared at her a moment, skeptical but trying to hold back their obvious protests. Their frowns were painfully obvious, a perfect picture of disappointment and worry. They eyed each other and seemed to have an entire conversation just with that eye contact before Jobal looked back at her youngest.

"Planning is pretty much done. We got a venue and invites out, now we just need the details and final outfit fittings. Small things like that. If you were here we'd get it done so much faster."

"You'll be able to make it, won't you?" Ruwee asked.

He looked older than she remembered with more lines on his face and an obvious weight on his shoulders. Even though she had no idea if she could attend her sister's wedding or not, there was no way she could hurt her parents at that moment. "Of course, I'll be there."

They both looked doubtful but accepted her answer. It was too hard to look at them, especially after another lie. "I've got to go. I love you both."

They expressed their own feelings and then reminded her to call more. When she was alone once more in her cabin, she sat for several moments trying to gather her strength.

* * *

Vader returned to his ship after a full day's work. With the former queen off to the capitol, it was up to him to keep the work going.

In his compartment, he sat for some light meditation where he could regather his anger and hatred and channel it back to the dark side. It wasn't hard. Mostly he thought of the highly incompetent people around him and their inability to accomplish the simplest tasks. Then, without provocation, he thought of the slaves.

They had been easy to ignore since he'd made his return to the miserable planet, but the former queen had been very vocal about her distaste for slavery and that had brought up old sentiments he'd once felt strongly about.

Even now he could feel a paranoia that the chip had never been removed and that somewhere out there, all it would take is the push of a button to blow the great Sith Lord to pieces. It was an old fear and long since disproven after a series of medical inquires and scans; the rational part of his mind was able to dismiss the long-extracted slavery chip.

The other part of him though, the one that fed on fear and gave him strength when he allowed that long held anger to bubble, it always encouraged the irrational part of him and warned that it was possible Sidious could kill him with the push of a hidden button.

He, one of the most powerful force wielders of all time, who had struck down the Jedi and then the hidden Sith who might oppose him, now bound to an artificial suit and the subject of his master's mercy. The anger doubled over: the power he felt was a familiar friend that he welcomed. Without resistance, he crushed everything around him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to slumberdollx for the editing, as usual. Was going to try to update this sooner but life got in the way. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Coruscant was even more beautiful than she remembered, but that beauty faded when the large Empire flags came into view. They were everywhere, from the streets and buildings to patches on people's clothes. Ugly blotches on a otherwise beautiful city. Padmé was escorted into the Imperial Palace with many other people, few of whom she recognized.

She did see Bail Organa who she knew worked closely with Mothma. There was some comfort in seeing his face and equal fear that this was some sort of trap which they would both be caught in.

There was little time to socialize before she was brought to her quarters. A well-guarded wing in the palace with a grand view of the city stretching out before her. It was bare compared to the Naboo palace but had much warmer furnishing than anything on Despayre. Overall, though, it felt cold with its sleek black furniture and wide open spaces left bare.

When she peeked outside of the sheer curtains, the first thing she saw was the Imperial emblem proudly displayed in more flags, even carved into stone sidewalks. Not once did she ever think she would miss Despayre, but the nauseating and overpowering black, white, and red colors made her miss the rotting jungle. The famous Red Guard that specifically guarded the palace and the emperor were ever present. She could hear them marching even then, just outside of the heavy doors of her room. With them so close and the outside banners made her claustrophobic. Not to mention the recording devices she was certain would be in her room, listening and maybe even watching her.

She took another look outside, the city bright and shining. She wished she'd been able to see its beauty when she'd come to it years ago, but her mind had been focused solely on negotiating help for her people. She saw the beauty now, but the Imperial touch made it bittersweet.

The execution would take place the following day, a mere twenty-four hours. Although she hadn't thought of the impending death she would be forced to witness, its coming arrival and her witness to it became the prominent focus of her mind.

Never in her time in the Alliance did she wish for an immediate attack as she did then. She'd give anything to look up at the sky and see an army descending.

Instead, all she could hear was the buzzing of the city that was so full and alive.

* * *

Vader stood in the middle of his destroyed room. The burst of his power had crumpled everything around him with such ease that the several panels of the wall had fallen lose.

He held still for a moment, his helmet gone and his hair unruly in his face. Dark, brownish blond waves that looked foreign when they covered his eyes. He pushed them back and out of the way, instead surveying the damage around him. Stronger, better. It wouldn't be much longer until nothing held him back from destroying Sidious. He reached for his helmet, intending to return to the offices just for a little face time with the cowering masses when the undisturbed golden gleam caught his attention. A falling wall panel bent inwards revealed one closet stuffed with machinery. His first creation stood at attention inside.

* * *

He'd been young, once. Small, too. His mother carried him a lot-he remembered that. Sometimes she'd hold him so tight that it would hurt, but he never said anything. At night, they slept close together because no matter how hot the days may have been, the nights were cold and rarely with any blanket or comfort besides the two of them.

The few memories he had of his mother were good ones, and he remembered her fondly.

They went to different places, had different masters. Sometimes he worked a few jobs but most of the time it was her who did the heavy lifting. She was usually so tired by the end of the days that she was asleep before finishing the stories she would whisper to him. Despite the helplessness of the situation, the sheer indignity, she bore it all and always had a smile for him.

Then came the day the man in fine robes came down to the miserable dust ball.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker was his name. At the time, he wasn't worth much. Given time though, the various masters hoped he would grow strong enough to work as muscle or other dangerous jobs. He'd finished his work in the morning for Watto, one of the kinder creatures who owned them. He was still a terrible little thing, but not the worst they'd had.

There hadn't been much work that day, Vader remembered. He'd cleaned and sorted a few odds and ends before Watto told him it was okay to call it a day. His mom still had work through and stayed behind when Anakin took off. In the dump of things Watto had carelessly thrown out, there was an old piece of a ship. He tore at it until he got to the wires, pulling each one and stuffing them in his tunic.

The sand was hot when he walked home. His mother had sewed and reinforced his shoes so that nothing could get in, but the sand still burned the bottom of his feet. He hurried his pace until he made it to their humble quarters.

Inside, he found the droid he'd been working on and began to add the wires where he could. When he thought he got it right, he activated the wire-exposed droid.

"Oh my! Hello, Master Anakin."

"Hey, Threepio. How do the wires fit?"

The droid stood and ran through a self-assessment of his new components.

"I dare say I'm near complete."

Anakin smiled a genuine smile, always fascinated to watch something he created walk around the room no problem.

He began to do some extra work on Threepio then. Coverings would be the hardest parts to come across for the droid, and until he could find something he would have to work on keeping the wires tucked away neatly.

It was sometime later that the door opened that he finally stopped and listened closely.

"Anakin, will you come out here please?"

He jumped up, happy his mother was home before the suns had set. When he left his room, he felt something that made him hesitate. Another presence beside his mother that put him on edge. He slowed his steps to the entryway until he had no choice but to round the corner.

The soft conversation that had been going on before his arrival died and before him stood a stranger.

"Anakin, this is Qui-Gon Jin. He'll be staying for dinner."

* * *

Padmé took a deep, useless breath. She tried to wipe her sweaty palms against the fabric of her expensive dress but felt the eyes of so many people on or near her that she hesitated to do anything that would reveal her true sentiments. She did try to seek out Bail Organa and see how he was doing, but the room was too crowded and her short stature made seeing past the sea of Red Guards and other guests of the emperor impossible.

They waited in the ballroom until the Jedi was brought onto the adjacent balcony, surrounded by Red Guards and booed by the crowd. Padmé and the others were directed to make a procession outside and stand on either side of the execution. The sun was actually out today. Before her was a crowd of thousands, all wearing variations of white, red, and black, and jeering at the man in the center of it all.

She looked at him only briefly, already feeling tears prickle at her eyes and wishing she were anywhere else but here.

His hair was a mess and slightly longer than she was sure it was usually groomed. His face and clothes were dirty. When he was pushed onto his knees, she caught a glimpse of exposed skin on his wrists and ankles from the torn robes. Bruised skin from the weeks spent since his capture, probably always being beaten.

She was growing lightheaded and could feel her hands trembling. She thought she might just make it though. That is, until the crowd suddenly went wild with the appearance of the emperor descending from the balcony above them. The cameras that had been floating all around them immediately focused on the man in fine black robes and his procession.

The closer he came, the more she wanted to bolt as far as possible. She felt hot, and no matter how hard she tried to appear indifferent, she was sure if anybody looked close enough they could see everything.

In her moment of panic, she caught the Jedi's eyes roaming over the group she'd clustered with. Their eyes met before she could stop herself or try to look anywhere but him. She wasn't sure what to do now that they were looking at each other. The crowd roared again when the emperor arrived. It jostled her, but she did her best not to think of the billions of beings through the galaxy that were watching now. She finally pulled her eyes from the deadman, a cruel but necessary act given the circumstances. She stared blankly past him until her eyes strained from the urge to look one last time. It didn't help that she knew the emperor was getting closer. In her peripheral vision, she could catch glimpses of his black robes and greyed skin. To think they'd been born to the same planet.

It wasn't until her lungs began to burn that she took one steady, discreet breath and hoped nobody had noticed her stumble. Emperor Palpatine moved to the center of the balcony, only a few feet in front of the kneeling Jedi. There were wild cheers that stopped when he raised one white, bony hand in the air. The silence was eerie considering the size of the crowd. Her muscles tight, she flinched when the emperor began to speak and the microphones boomed with his words.

"Thank you all for being with us here today, both in person and tuning in around the galaxy." The end of his words slithered and dragged on like a whistle. From her place, Padmé couldn't see his face hidden in the black hood of his robe, but she figured that his image would be seen everywhere in the coming weeks. It was rare that Palpatine made public appearances like this, usually when he or Darth Vader were seen like this, the media would eat it up and keep the images and videos relevant for weeks.

"It is today that we see once again the fruits of our efforts to secure true peace in the galaxy," he paused and allowed the audience to cheer.

"Today, we exterminate this traitor!"

More cheering.

Padmé's eyes slowly made their way back to the forsaken Jedi. He must have felt her eyes on him, because his tired eyes returned to hers and they focused on one another. She had no idea what he must have been thinking, with his death growing nearer and nearer. She herself had no idea what to think of the whole show.

The Red Guards began to move in closer to the man on the ground. They came from all sides as they closed in on him, leaving no room for him to escape. Padmé looked away. It was cowardly, but there was no way she could watch. She bit her tongue and willed her body to stand tall and proud despite the sudden wave of dizziness that compelled her to sit and rest.

She heard the blades unsheathe, and her stomach feel to her feet.

Maybe she passed out for the briefest moment, because in her next moment of consciousness, all she could articulate was the thundering crowd before her. She was aware of their sudden excitement. It bordered on blood lust that they called out for more. If every last Jedi were here today, lined up for slaughter, she was not sure it would satisfy their craving.

Bail Organa's eyes drew her in when they finally locked gazes. She focused on him, rather than the growing pool of blood at her feet. Despite his calm, collected composure, she suspected he was doing the same while looking at her. Her chin wobbled but she pushed all emotions aside for the time being. No matter the inhumanity she had just witnessed or the growing smell of copper, she stayed emotionless.

She was Padmé Naberrie Amidala, and she would not stand for the corruption of an entire galaxy. She would fight until there was nothing left of herself.

The cheering finally began to die down, but her resolve strengthened. Palpatine gave his big announcement. Sure, he prettied it up, but the point was clear. The senate was to lose more power. Padmé let the words roll right past her though.

Nothing would stand in her way, and she would do whatever necessary to prevent witnessing another execution like the one she saw today. Darth Vader she would face again, that she was sure of.

Her eyes fell to Palpatine, still standing to the front of the entire show.

Even he wouldn't be able to stop her.

* * *

Qui-Gon kept coming back. He said he would only be on the planet for a short time, but why he was there he never said.

He was nice enough to the Skywalker duo, but the more Anakin saw of him the more he began to distrust the man in the worn robes. He told as much to his mother, but she only shook her head. "He's a kind man, Ani, and we must be kind to those around us."

His suspicions continued though, and he knew he wouldn't feel better until the stranger finally left Tatooine.

He was cleaning in Watto's shop at peak afternoon time when most people retreated inside until the suns weren't at a lethal level. Watto sat outside of the shop in the shade, scaring off anybody who might try to take refuge inside without at least maybe buying something. Anakin wasn't sure where his mother was but could only hope she wasn't burning up outside.

"Come in, friend, come in." Watto's gruff voice broke Anakin out of his thoughtless work. He paused his cleaning and looked up, startled to see a stranger in fine robes.

The man beside Watto wore the finest materials Anakin had ever seen, though they were impractical for the heat of the planet. His hair had been styled back but was losing its neatness with the sweat formed over his red face.

Still, he carried himself with a certain strength and confidence rarely seen in places like Watto's shop.

"Good prices here, friend," Watto assured, no doubt expecting a nice fat sale from the stranger.

"Yes, lots of choices," the man agreed evenly, obviously trying to cover his exhaustion. He spoke in a posh accent that Anakin couldn't place from his time spent visiting travelling pilots.

"If you don't mind, I'll take a look around."

"If you need any help just let me know." Watto reluctantly backed off, giving one last long look before floating away.

Anakin returned to his cleaning, not sure if the stranger would be offended should he ask questions. Most of the pilots he spoke to didn't mind the questions he asked, but none of them wore fine clothes like this stranger.

He scrubbed the forgotten power converters in his hands, focusing on getting the sand out of them and making them useable again. He nearly dropped them when the foreign accent broke the silence of the shop.

"Listen up, boy. Do nothing suspicious."

Anakin kept his eyes on his hands and took a moment to collect himself.

"Okay?"

The man had his back to him just an aisle over as he inspected the wares displayed there.

"You've met somebody recently, haven't you? Somebody who has been trying to get to know you since he first arrived. Hasn't there?"

Anakin swallowed and focused on his cleaning. Qui-Gon came to mind immediately. "Yes," he answered quietly, not sure what this all meant.

"The man is dangerous," the new stranger whispered, going up the aisle and looking at other items.

His words rang with truth to Anakin, who was certain that there was something off about Qui-Gon from the beginning.

"Where is he now?" he asked.

Anakin shrugged but quickly dropped his shoulders, lest Watto see. "Not sure. Maybe with Mom?"

The man stood suddenly. "We must find him quickly. Are you a decent mechanic, Boy?"

The abruptness of their conversation threw Anakin off, but he answered truthfully. "Yes."

He stayed motionless on the counter when the man went outside to fetch Watto. He held a hyper speed engine chamber in his hands to purchase. Watto's eyes lit up at the chance at big money.

"Quite the expensive piece, you have," he warned, giving the price.

The man did not even blink, handing over a leather purse filled with precious stones. "Will that satisfy you?"

Watto must have been so taken back and pleased, that he could not agree right away.

From nowhere, the man fetched another stone and threw it into the bag. "That's if the boy comes with me to install it this afternoon."

Finally snapping out of his reverie, Watto agreed easily, "Sure, of course. Anakin will install no problem."

Stunned both by the turn of the day and the large sum of payment in Watto's hands, it took the young Skywalker a moment before he realized what was expected of him. He jumped down quickly and left the shop for an unknown destination. As they passed the threshold out into the sun-baked sand, that little voice in his head whispered that he wouldn't be coming back. "What's your name, Mister?" he asked quietly as he tried to keep up.

"Dooku."


	10. Chapter 10

The moment she'd been dreading finally arrived and she was summoned to the Imperial Throne Room.

She followed the Red Guards in front of her as they made a procession down the large, marble halls. The walls were thick enough to block out the sounds of the city outside, and she found herself trying to keep her steps light as not to disturb the artificial silence. Like a place of worship, it seemed disrespectful to make any fuss but the quiet swishing of her dress.

The doors leading into the throne room were at least three times her height and looked far heavier than she cared to think of. When the guards began opening them, she was certain she wouldn't have been able to get in on her own.

She moved in like she'd been there dozens of times before, completely confident and happy to see the heart of the Empire.

He sat at the top center of a marble staircase in a black throne. His bony arms were exposed as they rested on either side of him. They looked so thin and fragile, not befitting an emperor at all.

She was struck by his figure, seated in the highest seat in all of the galaxy and was left wondering all over again just how he'd managed to get there. For how much longer could he last, Alliance or not, there seemed to be an expiration date on him.

The image of Vader seated on that throne became crystal clear in her mind. Bulky armor and loud mechanical breathing that would echo through the silent halls. What a frightening emperor he would make.

Padmé stopped just a few yards short of the staircase and looked up solemnly. She bowed as respectfully as she could muster. She'd done this only once before, to the Gungans who'd actually deserved her respect. If not for them, she was certain she would have lost Naboo while Palpatine debated here in Coruscant. Trying to keep her bitterness at bay, she once again forced her tense muscles to relax.

"Rise, young one," that slithery voice filled the room.

She did with years of courtroom etiquette returning to her all at once. The black robes dragged behind him the slightest bit as he trudged down the steps to meet her. He was taller than her, but not by much she noticed when he stood only a few feet away. His yellow gaze stayed focused on her, his ashen skin foreign from the man she once knew. The creature before her might as well have been a stranger.

"Thank you for inviting me here." She fell back into her polite upbringing and experience, trying to seem as genuine as possible. If he suspected she was a liar, he did not show it.

He reached out and took her hands. Alarm bells went off in her head, but she forced herself to relax once again and focus only on the details of her work and not the constant struggle to sabotage what she worked on.

"Forgive me, but I truly did not expect you to take the job on Despayre," he admitted.

She gave a tight smile. "Truth be told, I've felt… conflicted about my decision more than once." Close to the truth but not blatant. She prayed he would excuse her right away and this was just a catch up.

He nodded like he understood exactly where she was coming from. "And Vader? How has he treated you thus far?"

For a moment, she froze. The sound of breathing was ringing in her ears, and she tried to push away that nagging wish that Vader was with her now so she wouldn't be left alone with the emperor.

She swallowed but kept her eye contact steady. "He's been fine. Keeping the work going."

He raised where his eyebrow was meant to be and gave her a pointed look. "You, my dear, are perhaps the first person to describe Vader as 'fine.'"

"The works being done right and on time. That's all I wanted."

He nodded a few times and pulled away from her. "I'm glad to hear all of this. Alas, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, child."

"Oh?" she asked, nervously. His hands had been cold, but already she could feel her own growing hot as nerves settled in.

He smiled, and she took a quick glance at his crooked and dying teeth.

"You see, since I took my throne it's been hard trying to determine who my allies are and who's just… there. You know? I'm sure you went through this when you left school to take your own throne."

She thought of Palo and the way they left each other to pursue their dreams and nodded, for once in agreement with the emperor.

"And then I thought of Naboo and couldn't help but think of the faithful people still on the planet. Then, of course, I thought of you."

She winced and felt her confidence shaken, her mind retreating as flight became an appealing idea. Impossible, but appealing. She kept her feet planted and gave another fake, tight smile.

"Your majesty?" she urged on, ready to get everything over with. Alive or dead, she wanted to know where she stood in the eyes of the empire.

"The job I offered you before, I would like you to consider taking it."

"And what job would that be?"

"Mayor of Coruscant."

* * *

Dooku moved quickly despite his obvious discomfort in the heat. Luckily, they didn't have to go very far before they arrived at the Skywalker home. Inside, though, there was nobody but Threepio sweeping.

"Oh my!" he called out but was ignored by a thoughtful Dooku and an anxious Anakin.

"What do we do?" the boy asked.

The man ignored him as he pulled something from his robes. "Give me your hand."

Reluctantly, Anakin obeyed until he saw the foreign metal device Dooku was holding. "What's that!" Before he could pull away, Dooku had pricked his finger and began to type away on the little machine.

"Will your mother be with the man I'm looking for?"

Anakin shrugged, rubbing his finger where a thick bubble of blood formed. "Probably." He glanced outside and knew wherever Watto had sent her to deliver purchases, she was most likely staying until it cooled. Qui-Gon would probably be with her, talking about whatever it was he was always visiting her over.

Dooku smirked when there was a little beep from the thing he used to make Anakin bleed. He gave a satisfied hum before turning his full attention over.

"I take it you and your mother are close?"

A nod. They were all each other had.

"Boy, I want you to reach out and find your mother."

"What do you mean?"

"You should be able to sense her, yes?"

"I guess."

"No, you will be able to," Dooku said, more to himself than anything. "Relax your mind and let it guide you. We must find her."

Anakin was confused and truly had no idea what Dooku wanted him to do. His face must have said as much because Dooku sighed.

"I'll explain."

* * *

"You want me to be mayor? Why?"

"Amidala, you were once such a fine Princess of Theed, an even better queen. You've done an excellent job as a director for my battlestation. But surely you miss politics, don't you?"

In all honesty, Padmé didn't really miss the constant array of decisions she had to make, the never-ending galas and balls she had to attend. She didn't even miss the elaborate gowns she'd worn or the fine foods she ate. That time of her life had served her well, but she'd been ready for change. The end of her reign was anticipated, but all too sudden at the same time. She hadn't made plans, always half-suspecting that Mothma would come to her just as she had that night. There was almost a relief when she did, an unburdening where she no longer had to come up with alternative plans for what she would do next. True, the Rebellion was important, but more than once she wondered if she would have joined on her own. She liked to think she would have, but there was always a little curiosity if maybe she would have tried to find Palo and start a life with him. Him, or somebody who could… what? Make her happy? Start a family? A childlike longing filled her.

Oddly, she thought of Vader for a moment. Her curiosity of what was under that mask paused her thoughts of family.

Now wasn't the time, she kicked herself. "Yes, your majesty. Sometimes I do miss the responsibilities of ruling." That was true enough, too.

"Do you accept?"

She stiffened. "What about the Death Star?"

"You've done well. I'm sure they can finish without you."

"They will fall behind."

"Vader will keep them in line," Palpatine reassured.

Even though he was a terrible man, the idea of Vader all the way on Despayre and her in the heart of the galaxy was troubling. They'd found a truce, and she didn't want to lose that honest, albeit tentative relationship they shared.

"Is this an order, your majesty?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course not. As I said before, this is a job offer."

The Alliance would want her to take this new job. There would be more information to gather here than Despayre.

"May I have time to think it over?"

She had a strange freedom on Despayre that she would lose here. No doubt she would be bugged.

He waved his hand. "If you must."

She wouldn't see Vader again, not on a daily basis, not until he became the next emperor.

She would be forced to smile and lie, just as she had on Naboo. She would be _alone_ again.

* * *

By the time he'd learned about the Force, it was cooling enough outside that he thought they could just wait for his mother. His curiosity won though, and he did just as Dooku instructed and reached out.

It really wasn't hard to do. It came naturally, too. Easy enough that he locked onto Shmi almost immediately. He frowned, when he was able to get her approximate location. "She's far away, out in the desert."

"Is she alone?"

He closed his eyes and tried again. "No, I-I think it's Qui-Gon with her."

"Good job, Anakin. You are very gifted in the force. That will come in handy. Now we need to go and find them."

Beaming from the praise, he began to follow but stopped when he heard voices outside. When he saw the boys only a few years older than him he retreated back inside, much to Dooku's annoyance. "What is it?" he snapped.

"They work with the Jawa's sometimes. They might try to take Threepio."

"Oh dear! I can't be taken by them! I'll be dismantled for certain." The wire exposed droid popped out from the kitchen area.

Dooku looked back and forth and then out the door into the cooling afternoon. "Bring him, then."

* * *

Padmé used a scrambler she'd been given by Mothma when she first joined the rebellion to give her room a technical glitch. While the cameras and recording devices were temporarily off, she retrieved the bulky holo Vader had given her.

Sending out her call request, she waited patiently for him to answer. A quick check told her Despayre was only forty-five minutes behind Coruscant. It took a while to connect, her mind blank she let her eyes wander around her naked room. When Vader answered on the other end, she lazily let her eyes fall onto his hologram.

"Vader," she greeted, trying to remain cold and impassive when they observed each other.

"Amidala."

She leaned back and played it cool. "I just finished speaking with the emperor. He offered me a new job."

"So, what will you be doing now?"

"I asked for time to think the offer over. He wants me to be mayor of Coruscant."

"Why think it over? Surely, you will learn more spying in the capital than you do here."

She grimaced as he echoed her exact thoughts back to her.

"I'm sure he knows I'm with the Rebellion, or at the very least, he suspects it. This is just a way for him to watch closely." After a moment of thought, she also had to add, "Or he'll use me to make an example of."

Vader didn't respond and so she was left to quietly wonder what to make of the whole thing.

"When will you be coming back?" his deep voice broke the silence.

"Soon, I hope," she answered, truly meaning it. What a thing, to actually want to return to Despayre.

* * *

It took them a while, but after finding out Dooku had a top of the line speeder they were able to head out into the desert. The wind felt good and kept Anakin cool as they sped forward into the endless sea of sand.

That's when he saw the foreign ship that sat stationary just behind the big red rocks he always fantasized about racing through. Thoughtlessly, he reached out with the Force to see where his mother was. He could feel her, but despite knowing she was so close he felt her slipping somehow. Or rather, her presence was suddenly blocked by something much larger than Anakin had ever anticipated.

The speeder stopped not far from the ship, and Dooku jumped down, leaving Anakin and Threepio alone. "Wait here, boy."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he told the droid.

They waited patiently until Anakin couldn't take another moment of it, the pressure becoming too much he jumped out of Dooku's speeder. "Wait here." He told Threepio.

"But Master Anakin! The scavengers! Oh, I'll be torn to pieces and sold off, oh no the injustice."

Usually, Anakin might indulge in Threepio's fantasies or even coddle them. Today, however, he focused on getting to the grounded ship where he felt his mother's presence the closer he got.

He was almost there when he felt the sudden burst of energy that threatened to throw him to the ground after it blasted from the ship. He managed to stay on his feet but had to take a moment to stop the wobbling and reground himself on the rough terrain.

When he felt confident about moving forward, he took off in a sprint until he reached the ship. Ignoring the overwhelming dread he felt, he pushed inside the open doors.

He saw nothing but could feel the immense energy just down the hall. Losing some confidence, he paused inside the doorway. With no weapon at his disposal, he took small, hesitant steps down the short white hall until he reached the room he was certain his mother was in.

When the door sensor felt his presence and slid open, he nearly turned and ran. The red and green beams of light were clashing together, throwing the entire room into their bright streaks of color.

They were so mesmerizing when they clashed, that he nearly missed the sight of Shmi Skywalker dying off to the side of the battle.

He ran to her, uncaring of his own safety when he realized she was there. He feel beside her, crying out for her and completely unsure what to do to help her.

"Mom!" he repeated, over and over until her dark eyes finally fell onto him. They kept rolling like she was fighting to stay awake, but deep-down Anakin just knew.

"An-Ani?"

"What do I do?" he asked quickly, not sure what he could do for her at this point.

She was fading fast, he could see that as much as he could feel it. "Mom?"

"I love…"

She went completely limp after that, gone forever no matter how much Anakin wished it weren't true. He gave her a quick gentle shake with no results. He stayed with her, too frightened to completely accept the truth yet. The light beams made a fantastic sound when they clashed that made Anakin jump with each smack. He stayed crouched for at least another minute before taking a thoughtless, wobbly step away from his mother's body and the ugly slash cutting through her sun-tanned body.

When he turned, the tears fell off of his round cheeks quickly dried up when he spotted Qui-Gon holding the green beam of light. Anger pooled in Anakin's stomach until his entire body burned with it. He felt a swirl of power encase him as he watched the two men fight it out. He wasn't sure just how he did it, but he certainly knew why he raised his small hand up and directed all of his mourning at Qui-Gon.

He felt the neck as though his fingers were really wrapped around it, and then he squeezed. Maybe it wasn't enough to kill the man, but it was enough to give him pause and he hesitated.

Dooku's red blade went straight through the other man's stomach. He said something to the fallen Qui-Gon, something Anakin couldn't hear, but at that point it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

* * *

After that, Vader left the planet with Dooku. He'd left behind the dust ball of a planet without a single thought and planned to never return. Dreams of freeing the slaves died with his mother. They buried her and left only a small marker before they flew away, the unfinished droid following him and for once not saying a thing.

He'd never asked about the events leading up to his departure, and in truth he didn't care to know. The results were the same.

Over the years, he gathered that Qui-Gon had once been Dooku's student and soon Anakin followed in those footsteps, becoming Dooku's apprentice. They went to the Sith Temples and Anakin began to learn the ways of the Force in ways much different than Qui-Gon had once learned.

He was a young man before he finally left the second desert planet, Dooku dead at his heels as he followed Dooku's master and eventual emperor.

It was for practicality and not sentiment, he reasoned, that he brought the droid with him and finally gave him coverings. Fine gold plates that he would never have dreamed of as a child.

The years after that had been bloody and had left millions dead, but Vader had felt none of it.

Standing in his destroyed apartment now, he still felt so little.

But then the unseeing eyes of the droid stared at him, and before he could stop himself he waved through the Force and those eyes lit up.

"Oh my! You've certainly made a mess, haven't you?"

 


End file.
